#which means I don’t have to worry about earning money from October on

[kimtaegis]

just received really genuinely great news that’ll make everything a little easier the next few months, gosh I really needed this I’m so happy 🥺

[olivereactsaboutgarbage]

One Piece Chapters 121-129

It’s December now! The month I claimed would be the month to finally have consistent daily posting (I mean I said the same thing about October and November but I was lying those times so it doesn’t count)! The month of holiday festivities! The month where I have to try and remember what was happening in One Piece last time I read some of it! The month of the exorcism.

Chapter 121 - I Knew

Oh right, the princess was watching everyone die or something. Now I remember. Those punks... they killed the Chocobo!!!

Oh, when he puts it like that, Wil Wheaton makes it sound less like “bounty hunting” and more like “abusing a glitch or exploit in order to not have to worry about earning money while you’re doing your speedrun”.

What happens next is that Wil Wheaton promotes his favorite Netflix show:

Nami and Zoro get turned into birthday cake decorations. I could have sworn I’d seen a screenshot from the anime before where Lufpy was a birthday cake decoration, but maybe I’m just wildly misremembering.

The large alcoholic reveals that his decision to defeat his manly friend in battle was a matter of pride, not ignorance--but now that he’s even less ignorant, he wants to kill Wil Wheaton! This makes Wil Wheaton’s friends behave aggressively.

Also, Lufpy, Usopp, and the Chocobo are ready to get back up and keep pressing on. Hooray for Chocobos! Not that I’ve ever played Final Fantasy.

Chapter 122 - A Dead Body is Useless

Bleurgh, Wil Wheaton’s power is so nasty... I don’t want to think about a Wil Wheaton sword piercing my flesh. I’d totally get a blood infection. I’m glad I’m not a large alcoholic right now! By which I mean what’s happening to the large alcoholic is totally like that one Danganronpa death. Y’know, that one.

...I swear I’m not obsessed with Danganronpa, I just happen to mention it a lot in my One Piece write-ups...

So what’s happening right now is that Nami, Zoro, the princess, and the large alcoholic are all damsels in distress, in the same way that beloved Ace Attorney character “Herlock Sholmes” was a damsel in distress in the third chapter of the second game with him in it. A princess being a damsel in distress? How cliche! ...Wait, actually, I think that’s already what she was, prior to this birthday cake scene. Well, that aside, Zoro uses vague platitudes to try and inspire the large alcoholic to action.

Zoro also declares that he will now cut off his legs, and...

Okay, that’s pretty good. Zoro has made yet another joke, and his power level has thusly surged forwards.

Just when Zoro was about to actually go through with it, he gets saved by a Goofballs ex Machina--a rare inversion of the typical Zoro ex Machina. What a shame, I actually would have liked it if Zoro stopped having legs... that would’ve been, like, disability representation or something.

lmao i see zoro is too much of a Cool Guy to yell people’s names, even when it would lend coherence to a sequence of panels

Chapter 123 - Luffy vs. Mr. 3

Hey, 3 is what comes at the end of 123!!! What a nice confluence of chapter number and chapter title. Not that I know what a “Luffy” is.

Oh, y’know what? This but from the front was the anime screenshot I saw someone post when I was like 14. I misremembered Zoro as Lufpy because Lufpy is normally the one who would be pointing at the sky. ...I guess Lufpy wouldn’t use a sword to do it, though.

Penny Nichols has a nice picnic for some reason. I think I was calling her Penny Nichols? Well, if I wasn’t, now I am.

Wil Wheaton locks up Lufpy’s feet in Shackles But Grosser, but this, as anyone could have predicted, only increases the potency of Lufpy’s Foot Fetish Moves. Which allows Lufpy to rescue Nami, Zoro and the princess more effectively.

However, even after punching Wil Wheaton into the stratosphere or what-have-you, he still seems to have reached an insufficient maximum effectiveness with which he is rescuing them. This is due to a lack of will, not a lack of ability. How mysterious...!

Chapter 124 - The Tea is Good

It turns out

...no... NO... I LET IT BACK IN...

...Excuse me for a moment. I have obtained a new method of expunging this demonic presence:

Excuse the black markings on the above panels. You’ll have to put up with this for a few days until the process is complete and I have regained my ability to utter... that phrase... without losing my grip on the threads that tie me to the mortal coil. Or, ideally, perhaps I won’t slip up again until the danger has passed.

Wow, I don’t remember that one being in Sonic Colors! ...Or maybe it was, and that’s why he shoved Tails into that elevator that one time.

The princess is the only person who realizes how to solicit Lufpy’s assistance, thusly once again proving that Competent Womanhood is a status that can only be held by one individual at a time, and overexposure to Lufpy has tragically removed it from Nami.

...Okay Penny Nichols might be my favorite villain so far. I like her design AND her gimmick. None of her colors seem to line up with the ones from Sonic, but I’ll forgive that minor continuity error.

You wouldn’t be saying that if you knew the sheer amounts of power Zoro derived from his jokes, Princess.

Usopp calls the Chocobo a good duck because it’s good at dodging, but there’s bad news headed his way: A gun!

Usopp also lights Lufpy on fire, which is good, but something bad also happens: Usopp catches on fire, thanks to... uh, whatever I was calling the male member of whatever team he’s from.

WHY IS LUFPY JACKED???

Chapter 125 - Candle Champion

oh NOOOOOO is Wil Wheaton coming back?! D:

Sanji is coming back.

Wil Wheaton comes back too. :(

WIL WHEATON HAS A MECH???

Wil Wheaton asks Penny Nichols for help. She agrees, on the condition that she gets to take a nap. Wil Wheaton tells her to skip to the part where she’s taking a nap, because he’s already unbeatable without her help. I hope this is the means through which Lufpy and the gang overcome Penny Nichols once and for all.

Woah, the princess has adopted the role of Competent Woman so hard, she’s Competent even in death... oh yeah everyone’s dead I think I forgot to mention that

It turns out

hngh... GAH...!!

Humanity restored.

Anyway, what I was trying to say is: Having hair that’s on fire is a really strange choice for someone whose ability is disabled by fire to have. Maybe his hair is the only thing keeping him alive? That’s scary. I’m glad I’m not Wil Wheaton. If I were Wil Wheaton, everyone would hate my Star Trek character and then I would end up having to play myself on Big Bang Theory!

oh this is at LEAST as fetishy as any special move lufpy has ever used if not moreso

OH LMAO LUFPY HAD THE SAME THOUGHT THAT I DID ABOUT HOW WIL WHEATON’S OWN HAIR DISABLES HIS ABILITY

I guess noticing people’s fashion sense is one of Lufpy’s character gimmicks that I haven’t commented on much up until now.

Using Usopp’s cleverness, Lufpy engulfs all his friends in flame! Uh, except Sanji I guess. Sanji is still busy engaging in the process of coming back.

Chapter 126 - Instinct

...Was Nami always barely-clothed in this scene or is the idea that her clothes burned up in a big fire?

Usopp uses one of the terrifying master’s tricks: Pretending one kind of bomb is a different kind of bomb. Wait, but the terrifying master was an awful boss! I thought better of you, Usopp.

The explosion guy whose identity I forgot tries to get revenge about this, but Zoro prevents that by lighting his own rice pun ablaze. Powerful!

OHHHHHHHHHH NOOOOOOOOOOOOO THERE’S AS MANY OF WIL WHEATON AS THERE ARE CHAPTERS OF ONE PIECE??? That sucks, because Wil Wheaton is gross!!

It turns out

FUCK

Humanity restored.

As I was saying: Lufpy was able to overcome the army of Wil Wheatons by simply overcoming it.

While Sanji’s enjoying some tea, a basket starts ringing like a telephone. It turns out this is because there was a telephone in the basket, but even with that said: That may have been the most JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure-esque thing ever to happen in One Piece.

Oh, the person calling Sanji was Mr. Zero by the way.

Chapter 127 - Snail-o-phone

Oh yeah, also the telephone was a snail.

The large alcoholic is suddenly even sadder about his manly friend being dead. His manly friend is suddenly not dead. Well, that settles that, I guess.

Wait... is Penny Nichols ACTUALLY gonna get unceremoniously ignored? Is that why we’re getting arc wrap-up stuff now? What’s she up to at the moment?

Steve Buscemi ends up impersonating Wil Wheaton too well, and gets attacked by animals. Oh yeah, I meant Sanji by the way. You can determine for yourself where in that sentence I meant to say “Sanji” but ended up saying something else instead.

The joke’s on animals though, because animal cruelty is quickly

turning out

to be Sanji’s specialty. Huh? Did something happen just now? No... I think it’s fine.

Anyways, Mr. Zero can’t abide animal cruelty, so he plans on killing Wil Wheaton, by which I mean Steve Buscemi, by which I mean Sanji, by which I mean “too well”, the thing I accidentally said instead of saying Sanji.

That aside... Sanji now has access to the banana that will send him to Mr. Zero.

Chapter 128 - Pirate Pride

Ah yes, the palindrome cop and her cop boss who eats various things in various ways. ...Well, they exist!

hey why’d zoro get to keep his shirt? fire got rid of lufpy and nami’s shirts, why didn’t it get rid of zoro’s shirt? i bet there’s a lot of people out there who would have liked it if something happened to zoro’s shirt... wait is he still covered in blood under his shirt? never mind actually

As for why the princess also didn’t lose her shirt... that’s obvious. Boobs Hypnosis is just that powerful.

Is Sanji... alright... in this panel...?

He says that as if it’s new information to him, and not something he’s been incapable of shutting up about this entire time. Ah, Sanji... your Sanji Points are... so resplendent, yet so fleeting...

No context shall be provided.

Anyway, the giants want Lufpy and his crew to not die. That’s nice.

Chapter 129 - Straight Ahead!!!

Nami regains her Competent Woman powers, doubling the number of Competent Women. Incredible! However, this was extremely bad timing, as we are now in a situation where Competence is anything but a virtue. It’s time for the power of friendship to overcome Competence.

It does that.

Now some random fish has a big hole in it.

It turns out

Guaaaaaah...! Nooooo...!

Humanity restored.

Oh, so NOW Zoro’s shirt mysteriously goes missing. Couldn’t have gone missing when everyone else’s did, huh? It had to wait until NOW to go missing. I get it. Zoro’s shirt is like the type of FREAKING HIPSTER (!!!) who plays Undertale in 2018 instead of 2015. Zoro’s shirt is now the worst member of Lufpy’s crew. It has even fewer Sanji Points than Sanji or Usopp.

Someone is wearing birds. Meanwhile, it turns out the Competent Woman Counter is going to have to drop back down to 1, because Nami is like, dying

[clareisa]

Consequences -「Son Dongju」

♠ - exorcist!Xion X demon!Reader

♠ - genre: exorcist!au, angst, suggestive

♠ - words: 1,8K

♠ - A/N: I know my stories are not the best, but I still hope they are not terrible. I would need more words to do a good story but unfortunately I don’t have the time. Please, forgive me, everyone♥

♠ - 4th October -  ♠ creeptober ♠

♠ - warnings - mentions of religion, disrespect of sacred place, mentions of blood, exorcism, coercion

♠  - English is not my first language, so please, excuse my mistakes

 Dongju was a regular boy from the countryside. Hardworking, generous, kind, peaceful and devoted to his faith in God, the good and bad, and the afterlife. Since he was a little boy, he wanted to work for the church, and not because of money or prestige. He just wanted to help people and lead them to be better. Because he believed everyone is kind in their true nature.  His parents were intensely proud when he got accepted to the theology school as a common farmer child, but they said he has unique qualities and determination to be part of God's servants.

 Soon, he didn't know why, but Dongju started to find interest at the more of a dark spectrum of his faith. It didn't mean he wanted to become a sinner. He just became captured by all the dark myths surrounding him, and the fascination of the other side of the coin. ��Exorcism fascinated him the moment he got to know about it, and even though it was hard, sometimes even sad or disgusting to look at what was happening, he didn't give up.

  Soon he became very good at his job of casting out demons off from bodies of innocent people. Until one time...

 The moon was in the first quarter that night when Dongju arrived in a small village on the Han River. He came on the request of the head of the village, who sent a letter asking for help for his supposedly possessed daughter. And it turned out it was the case.

 Dongju was next to her bed for the whole night, trying to get the stubborn evil spirit out of the young girl's body. The demon was talking throught her. First just making fun of him, but as time was passing by, the demon used the girl's body to start touching Dongju in places that weren't appropriate.  As this started, Dongju took her hand in his and started saying out loud prayers, begging higher powers to kick the evil spirit out while intensely looking into the girl's eyes, making sure the demon can hear and see him clearly throught the young girl.

 The screams of agony were echoing throught the house as the method was finally working, and the painful process of the stubborn demon leaving without its permission started.  The girl's hand where Dongju was holding the rosary started burning, causing the smell of scorching human flesh to fill the room. Her eyes went up, the iris not even seen anymore, mouth opened in suffocating scream and the body trembling in an inhuman manner.

 "Crux sancta sit mihi lux, not draco sit mihi dux..." that was the beginning of the prayer Dongju was repeating.  "Vade retro satana, Nunquam suade mihi vana..." he continued even throught the screams and the girl biting his arm, piercing his skin and little creek of blood were falling down the rosary and then to the floor.  "Sunt mala quae libas, Ipse venena bibas." he finished with the last part saying that what they are offering is not wanted and the entity should drink their own venom.

 As he looked the last time deep in girl's eyes, he fell into a vision.

 He suddenly saw the face of a woman. The woman had white eyes and a smirk playing on her red lips.  Her voice resonated in his mind like an echo, "You think you this ends here?" she chuckled, "We'll meet soon... Son Dongju." and that was the moment the illusion in his mind fell apart, and he came back to reality, kneeling next to the bed holding the burned girl's hand, bleeding himself.

 After that, everything went smooth like usually. Dongju was happy that the family gave him some little money and cooked dinner. Yes, he was starving, and yes, he was in need of money also.  He was one of the best exorcists, but the church distanced themselves from him a long ago when he didn't agree to scam people out of money even when the humans around them wasn't possessed, just ill.

 Since then he was travelling, trying to earn money and then sending them to his parents because their business wasn't going really well and they were both ill.

 He thanked the family, took his things and probably an hour before sunrise, he got on his journey back home. As he was passing a church that was in the same village, he decided to go in, pray for a while, and think about the vision he got.

 As he opened the heavy wooden door, the cold air and smell of myrrh hit his senses. It was familiar and felt safe. Nothing bad could happen in this saint place.  He got on his knees in front of the altar, connected his hands, closed his eyes and started praying, thanking the higher power that he could save the young girl this night.

 "Well, well, well... who we got here, huh? Isn't it the same punk who forced me out of that body and interrupted my fun time?" suddenly a smooth women voice echoed through the church.  Dongju's eyes immediately opened he stood up and quickly looked for the source of the dangerously seductive voice.

 He froze to the ground as he saw an actual demon for the first time in front of him. How did he know? Well, it was more than obvious.  Her eyes purely white, giving no clue of actual living being inside. Her raven black hair was falling to her thighs, and her ashy skin was looking too unhealthy for blood even pulsating underneath. Her sharp nails painted in same black colour as her plump lips.

 Dongju immediately squeezed his rosary, "How did you get here? This is a sacred place!" he shouted at her not exactly sure what he should do since he was never in such a situation before.  "Sacred? Here? Ha! Let me laugh. This place was never even consecrated, my dear. Why you think this place has the most possession cases, huh?" she chuckled and smirked, looking at his handsome being up and down.

 Dongju just gulped but didn't say anything. She rolled her eyes even though he couldn't see, because of the white colour.  "Look, I don't want to hurt you," she started slowly walking 'down the aisle' to him, but he immediately showed the rosary up, trying to protect himself in panic.  "Woah, Woah... slow down, baby boy. I said I don't want to hurt you." she said stopping a couple of meter in front of him.

 "Then what do you want?" he asked.  "I wanna work with you. As simple as that." she smiled.  "W-what?" he was confused now.  "You know... I would possess someone's body, and you will easily get 'rid of me' and get the reward, which we would spread in half. Good plan, right?" she leaned her head to the side as if it was the most normal thing happening.

 Dongju was slowly going crazy. This wasn't real, right?  "No... this... you.." he pointed at the female demon, " you are not real. This is just a dream, or I'm too tired, and it is happening just in my head." he said taking a deep breath, trying to calm down.

 "Oh, it is very much real, baby boy." she walked to him, "Should I show you how much?" she whispered with a smirk.  Dongju at that moment put the rosary at the side of her neck, making the demon scream in pain and walk back two steps.  

 "Ouch! That hurt, you know?!" she held the place when he burned her ashy skin a bit.

 "No, you are not real. I'm just hallucinating. I saw you before when I was helping that girl, it is just my imagination." he was trying to lie to himself again because he was a little scared now.

 "It was me, you idiot!" she sighed in annoyance. "Ok, I'll help you to believe. And because you interrupted my fun in that human's body, you can see it as a punishment," she said with a smirk on her face.  In a matter of one second, she was standing behind Dongju and hilding him under the neck. That was the moment the young exorcist finally accepted that this is real, and a real demon is going to kill him.

 "Oh, no, no, no. I won't kill you," she said.  "Y-you know how to read my mind?" he gulped as her long nails scratched his neck slightly.  "And not just that... don't worry your punishment will be pleasant, I promise," she whispered the last two words.

 The beautiful but freaky demon girl suddenly connected their bodies as close as possible, "Just relax and enjoy..." she smirked as she slowly pushed herself into his body, becoming part of him, possessing him.

 Dongju suddenly just heard her voice in his head. "Mmm, your body is strong and healthy." she giggled, "What a pretty young man we have here?" she chuckled and moved with his hand without him approving.  "Leave me alone!" he shouted in his mind.  He could see and feel everything throught his eyes and body but just couldn't control any of his body parts.

 "Let's have some fun since you ruined my last entertainment." she chuckled in his mind and sat his body down on the bench, the one right in front of an altar.  "Now let's show your Lord how he created you in his image." she giggled.

 Dongju's hands moved under her power and started buttoning down his dress shirt and pulling down his trousers slowly.  "What? NO! Let me go, you insane demon!" he whined in his mind.  "No. I have a weak spot for handsome cute humans, I wanna you to enjoy yourself." she chuckled again.

 She took down finally his underwear and here he was. Completely under demons control, naked in front of an altar.

 "Please, let me go. I..." he didn't even finish the sentence as his hand under your power took his bare member and started stroking up and down in slow teasing motions.  Dongju whined in his mind. It felt so bad, so embarrassing, so degrading, but the actual physical pleasure as his hand was going faster under the demon woman control was undeniable and liked the feeling even though he was disgusted by himself.

 "Your mind can try to stop me, but your body wants it so bad. I'm a very polite demon but no one interrupts my fun without consequences," she smirked when he finally moaned as she made him grip his already hard cock tighter.  "Maybe I'll let you have your fun with me later because I saw how you were looking at me, baby boy." she was having so much fun torturing the young man.

 "But now your consequences are that I'll make you cum right here, on the altar of your lord so he can see you clearly..."

[monstersandmaw]

No Patreon charge for September, and the future of my Patreon

I shared this with my Patrons, but I wanted to share it here too.

___

Hey folks,

I hope you’re all doing as well as can be expected, what with everything going on in the world at the moment!

I have a walking holiday planned for the first two weeks (Covid-situation permitting) of September, so I'm going to be taking a break, which means you won't be charged for September. You should get a notification about it shortly, but I wanted to post this anyway.

As some of you may already know from Discord, I'm thinking about winding down and possibly even closing my Patreon altogether. It's not a decision I've come to lightly, but I want to focus on my novel again, and I can't do that and continue to create monster stories for you as well. The immense emotional and physical toll of creating so much content consistently for two years on here and three on Tumblr would just not be feasible with writing a full length novel as well.

EDIT: I may 'unlaunch' my page, which would essentially freeze everything. No one would be charged, but you also wouldn't have access to it either. It's like mothballing it for an indefinite period of time.

EDIT: I'd like to stress that nothing is happening immediately, and certainly not before October. Nothing will be disappearing from  here before I've worked out what I'm going to do with it, so don't worry about that, and I'll give you plenty of notice before I unlaunch or delete, so that you can ask me questions and keep track of your favourite stories. (final edit, sorry for all the spam).

I will finish all the obligations like August's exclusive and the CYOA with Gabriel, but I'm not sure what the format of my page will be after August. For September, I will leave everything in stasis as it is, and I will make a post when I’ve decided whether to close my page or leave it open with a $1 ‘donation’ tier or something.

My novel is not a monster story, though it is fantasy, so perhaps I can share updates or something with people who are interested in that. If you’d like to know more, I can do more of a post on that, so let me know. If you have questions about any of the unfinished stories on here (like Winter Solstice or Ashridge etc.) please feel free to ask. I'm still working out what to do about them.

I’m sorry this is a bit vague, and a bit sudden, especially to this of you who have just joined. I hope you enjoy the materialist of material that’s up here and that you feel it’s worth it for your recent donation, but if not, feel free to get in touch with me on messages and I’ll see about refunding your pledge.

Thanks again to those of you who’ve been with me from the beginning. It’s been an amazing experience, and knowing that you value my writing enough to share your hard-earned money with me in support of that has just been beyond words.

Take care of yourselves, and I’ll keep you posted.

Ghosti x

[dwellordream]

“Jeanne Boydston’s study of housework suggests another possible explanation for the tendency of parents to withdraw their daughters from domestic employ: the devaluation of housework itself as an activity of any economic value. The introduction of a cash economy into the interstices of post revolutionary American life meant that activities that did not customarily generate cash—including those myriad duties of domestic maintenance—became ‘‘invisible,’’ defined as something other than work both by those who did housework and by those who did not. 

Women themselves increasingly devalued the importance of their own work, as evidenced by Lydia Almy of Salem, Massachusetts, who ‘‘wove, attended to livestock, made cider, carted wood, tanned skins, took in boarders,’’ but nonetheless, recorded in her diary that she was disturbed to know that she was ‘‘in no way due any thing towards earning my living,’’ unlike her mariner husband. The increasing tendency to define housework as hardly work at all, because of its unwaged (or low-waged) character, influenced the calculations of parents as they made decisions about their daughters’ lives. 

Mary Virginia Terhune’s advice explicitly attributed a cash calculation— and an invidious distinction—to the attitudes of both daughters and their fathers toward daughters’ work, especially when girls had received educations. Fathers, she felt, imagined that ‘‘the labor of an educated woman,—especially if that woman is his child, and her scholastic education has cost him thousands of dollars—should . . . command a better market-price than that of an illiterate Celt, whose schooling cost nothing.’’ Daughters themselves might have adopted a wage theory of value to assess the value of their own labor, Terhune speculated. A middle-class daughter’s ‘‘time and strength are worth more than a seamstress’s, or chambermaid’s or cook’s wages. The world teems with seamstresses, chambermaids, and cooks, clamoring for the very work she abhors.’’ 

Frances Willard’s book of advice to girls put a different spin on the situation, based on a similar hierarchy of class. She urged middle-class daughters to aspire to higher work than housekeeping, arguing that opening a place for a domestic servant in their homes created a place for a destitute young woman who otherwise ‘‘might be tempted into paths of sin.’’ (Prostitutes themselves often compared the two vocations, to the disadvantage of housework.) Writing in the 1880s,Willard and Terhune did not lament the graduation of middle-class girls from housework; they seemed to agree that middle-class girls either had priced or should price themselves out of the market for domestic labor. 

…One of those who worked for her living was Ann Ware Winsor herself, who ran a school from their home and sought other ways to eke out the family’s subsistence. In a letter to her daughter the previous summer, she informed Annie of several schemes she had for making money; for one, the boys would raise chickens. ‘‘While they make money out of hens, I expect you girls to make it out of small fruits, and I have engaged a lot of plants to be delivered here in the Spring for you to cultivate!’’ Ann Ware Winsor assured her daughter that not only would it provide a welcome contribution to the family coffers, but ‘‘That’s the way out of head-aches and other ails. Read some books on the subject and you will grow enthusiastic.’’

Despite the economic worries of the Winsor family, however, only one child, a middle son, actually worked at a paid job outside the home in 1880: seventeen-year-old Paul was a clerk at the railroad office. The eldest, Robert, was in college, and all the rest were in school, including nineteen-year-old Mary and fifteen-year-old Annie. Presumably the ‘‘opportunity costs’’ of educating the girls were low enough that it weighed against sacrificing their education. Family calculations also suggested that the daughters’ extra energies would be better used in assisting in teaching in their mother’s school than in doing housework. For the 1880 census indicated that the Winsor family employed three female servants. (Annie’s private journal recorded cryptically, ‘‘Maids are an abomination for children.’’) 

…The growth of the market economy during the course of the nineteenth century meant that girls as well as their parents felt the need of cash. Those without access to cash sought strategies to make some, whatever their attitudes toward women’s wage work as a social development. Away at school in the cash-poor South, and largely abandoned as well by her father, Mary Thomas fantasized about alternative lives. In one of them she sold things, ‘‘for I mean to work a patch next year and make some money, if I don’t have to come back to school; and then at Christmas, I will have a right good lot of money to do as I please with, I think I shall get a watch with it.’’ Despite her clear disdain elsewhere in her diary for the notion of working for a living, Mary Thomas was willing to countenance work for wages in order to be able to participate in a consumer economy. 

A fourteen-year-old subscriber to the youth magazine Harper’s Young People reported that she had earned the money for her subscription herself ‘‘by sewing for the black people.’’ She reported that she had to sew ‘‘very cheaply, because they are so poor’’; presumably her low wages also reflected her low level of skill. A correspondent to St. Nicholas also reported that she and her brother had earned the money for their subscription themselves—in this case by selling hickory nuts and onions. Elite girls came late to money earning. Mary Virginia Terhune charged late Victorian parents with discriminating against girls in their differential training in the basics of money management. 

‘‘Jack raises chickens and sells the eggs and ‘broilers’ to Mamma. Willy splits kindling-wood for the kitchenfire and draws his lawful wages from Papa as would any other laborer. Mamie comes down to breakfast, as gay as the morning, hair bound with a blue ribbon that matches her eyes, waltzes up to Papa, in a gale of affectionate glee, throws her arms around his neck and begs for a kiss. She gets two and a gold dollar, fished up from the vest-pocket nearest the paternal heart—‘because she looks so pretty today.’’’ Terhune’s charge that girls were not given experience managing money had some basis. 

Women were not paid wages for housework; instead, their work was supposed to come ‘‘from the heart,’’ and to be inspired by devotion to the family good. To the extent that girls shared in their mothers’ lots, they too were encouraged to dust, to make beds, and to shell peas not as entrepreneurs but as part of their responsibilities to womanly service. However, just as housewives made some cash through the nineteenth century for a variety of home manufactures, girls too might learn to work for profit in performing those home tasks still considered ‘‘productive.’’ 

…Good parents saw to it that daughters had some skills in handling their own money—and because few urban girls had the money-making possibilities available to Margaret Tileston on her family’s farm, some of them began to receive small sums in the form of a regular allowance. An 1897 study on ‘‘Children’s Sense of Money’’ found that 7 percent of all girls were given a regular allowance. Jessie Wendover, the daughter of a prospering Newark grocer, was one. At the age of nine in 1881, she received ten cents a week allowance, which was raised to twenty-five cents by the time she was fourteen. She kept a careful account of every expenditure. 

At fourteen, her expenditures included an occasional soda water (ten cents), ice cream, Sunday school donation (five cents), a variety of school supplies, carfare, ribbons, music. Although she was not usually responsible for buying her own clothes, she also recorded paying twenty-five cents several times for a bustle, perhaps because it was not encouraged by her mother, or more likely because it was one of the few ready-made items in her wardrobe. She paid for her own magazine subscription to St. Nicholas, $2.75, or nearly three months’ allowance. As befitted her regular habits, Jessie Wendover customarily carried a balance of $5 or so from month to month, except when depleted by the Christmas season. 

By 1887, when Wendover was fifteen, she was receiving fifty cents a week, and recorded paying twenty-five cents ‘‘to see picture ‘Christ on Calvary.’’’ At sixteen, she developed a taste for milkshakes, a habit of occasionally eating lunch out, and a preference for having her bangs cut by a salon. Chewing gum, peanuts, and marshmallows made their appearance in her accounts in the summer of 1888, but so did regular contributions to the missionary box, and in the fall, a donation for yellow fever sufferers. The following year she noted frequent small outlays for hokeypoky—ice cream—and she once spent seventy-five cents to have her hair shampooed. 

But in October of that year she was sufficiently ahead to deposit $3.00 in the bank, and in September of 1892, her twentieth year, $20.00. Clearly Jessie Wendover’s ample allowance and her own prudence allowed her early to learn not only how to spend money and account for it but also how to save it—all important lessons for bourgeois helpmates. Another pattern though seemed to be gaining currency at the same time. Increasingly, household chores began to creep in as part of the way that parents justified giving money to youth. 

…Occasionally, and unevenly, girls’ diaries began to suggest that they themselves were beginning to expect and to receive wages for work done for their families. Marian Nichols reported receiving wages for family sewing. ‘‘Worked on some drawers for Margaret. Mamma is to pay 30 cts a pair for them.’’ The next year she reported that she was even getting paid for exercise. ‘‘Went to school. Walked in and out by myself. Rosy doesn’t like my getting money from walking out. I get 3 cts.’’ Jane Addams’s father paid her for every volume of Plutarch she read and reported on, as well as for every volume of such things as Irving’s Life of Washington, ‘‘after the manner of Victorian fathers,’’ according to Anne Scott.

The custom of paying daughters for their work in the bourgeois family suggested a new approach to girls as well as to family economics. The same study that tracked the development of the ‘‘allowance’’ also discovered that fully a quarter of all girls reported making money for doing housework. It is no wonder that girls increasingly began to resist doing housework as part of their womanly lot that others were getting paid to do. Giving girls allowances was good Victorian practice—encouraging regularity of habits, responsibility, careful accounting, and prudence. 

Yet in its tendency to evolve into a quid pro quo for performing household and other kinds of chores it contributed to a radical new notion well expressed in the economic writings of Charlotte Perkins Gilman—the notion that daughters, if not their mothers, were autonomous economic beings in control of their own labor, and able to exchange it for currency. When Victorian fathers paid their daughters wages for housework, they were laying the seeds of turn-of-the-century rebellions against conventional notions of female self-sacrifice as woman’s natural lot.”

- Jane H. Hunter, “Daughters’ Lives and the Work of the Middle-Class Home.” in How Young Ladies Became Girls: The Victorian Origins of American Girlhood

[oftenderweapons]

Small Town Swoons

Hello buttercups! Here is the big fat project I was talking about. I am giving you snippets and teasers of the whole thing, just to let you know what you’re all getting yourself into. 

There are some spicy tidbits here and there, so I would suggest only mature (18+) people read and/or engage with this post. 

I’ll be starting with Yoongi since his piece is really in the holiday spirit and I’m super hella inspired to write it, but don’t worry, Steamy waters is still coming (just know that I’m not done publishing stuff for the night 👀)

Let me know what you think about this project, what story you like the most and which one you really really look forward to reading 💕✨

Just in case you need it, here is my masterlist

Enjoy 💜

Apple of My Pie — Jin

In the bakery and café near the university many students barge in, desperate for coffee and the delicious apple pies served there once October comes. Some of them barge in for the sweet sight of the owner, still mysteriously single. Little do you know that he’s been pining after you for years, since you ran into his café in a slow, rainy Sunday morning, drenched like a stray kitten, asking only for friendly help. Friendship sparks easily and his comfort tastes as sweet as autumn apples. That’s how you find yourself flatmates, watching movies with his secret recipe hot cocoa on Saturday evenings and waking up to the delicious scent of his pies on Sunday morning. But the sudden apparition of a rival makes you wonder, what would it be like to fall asleep in his bed every night?

Mold Me New — Taehyung

Divorce is a mess, especially when you’re so young and you had bet your life on your high school crush. All those things you never had to learn are scary now: dating, friends with benefits, all those secret rules on social interactions and flirting. But then your friends gift you a clay modelling lesson at the local pottery. Your teacher looks like a quiet, grumpy man who slowly warms up to you, offering you his kind smiles and gentle laughs. Right when fear that your lack in courtship manners might cost you your greatest chance at a new happiness, his lessons indirectly turn into small advice, and suddenly it feels like his hands are shaping your heart into the perfect, beautiful whole you needed. And to show him your gratitude, you’re more than willing to gift the artist his creation.

“Don’t let it dry too much. Too much water will mess it up. It will become too pliant and it won’t hold up.” That was it. The rule to love. You had bathed him in reassurance and affection, and just like that he had melted underneath your touch, and he had turned into nothing. And the love had run out. “Every shape has its specific requirements.” He explained, dipping his hands in the basin and letting the droplets fall from his fingertips. “Wet hands, but not drenched.” Once he was happy with the result he sat up, his foot starting a small pressure on the pedal. “See, here we go. The clay will show how much water it needs. Easy on the pedal. Very slow. You’re warming it up. Be gentle. You’re not sure it’s good. Just like with people. Easy at first, and once it works you speed up.” He smiled at the material underneath his hands. “Gentle. Easy.” He said, his sinewy fingers gently pressing into the art piece to be. His fingers seemed to stretch and bend imperceptibly, as if he was feeling the very texture of the material, and of the final result he wanted to obtain. “That’s the secret to good things.”

The Shrew, Untamed — Jimin

Everyone gets married in small towns. The hairdresser’s daughter, the butcher’s niece, the doctor’s granddaughter. Even your best friend. And someone has to organise all the weddings. You have taken part in so many it is unnerving. You’re not asking for a husband, a simple fuckbuddy would suffice. You don’t even need someone with skill, you just need to have sex with a human. Though your goal seems unattainable and life apparently truly sucks, the petty florist where you order the flower arrangements offers you a beacon of hope, comforting you and spoiling you whenever you visit his shop, condescending to your every whim. Will he satisfy your every wish or will you have to supervision your best friend’s wedding on the verge of sanity?

“Sit down, sweet pea.” He said, offering you his chair. He immediately stood behind you, digging his fingers into your shoulders, massaging them. He always smelled like greenery. It was relaxing. “Who pissed on your roses, tiger?” He asked, his thumbs drawing circles at the base of your neck. You moaned and closed your eyes. “Poor baby. So stressed.” He purred, laughing. “Portia is getting married.” You groaned. He ohed. “Your friend, Portia?” You frowned and pouted. “That bitch. Portia.” You growled. He laughed a silvery sound. “It’s your best friend.” “It’s a stressed out insult. She wants me to plan it. Jimin, I am so tired of watching people getting married.” He kneaded the nerves near to your spine. “It’s a professional hazard, baby’s breath.” His finger stilled as he reached the middle of your back without finding the clasp of your bra. He moved upwards, ignoring the small detail. “It’s the third in two weeks. I can’t. Is everybody getting married this spring?” You asked, your head rolling forward. “I’m tired. Stressed. Grumpy.” You whine. “Baby, you have your sugarcane at home, use it.” He said, referring to your swirl shaped dildo. You shook your head. “It’s the warmth. Human touch. Sympathy.” Ask me, please — Jimin mentally begged — I’ll be so sweet to you. “And now I even need a plus one for Portia’s wedding. Lest she pairs me up with her cousin. Did I mention that he’s thirty and bald?” You sighed. “I can help.” He said. “With the Plus one.” He clarified. “Don’t expect me to get my fingers in your pie, blossom.” He stated. You shook your head. “Your loss.” You tutted. His loss, for sure. Not like you wanted him massaging your breasts as you sucked him off, laying on your white silk sheets, his dulcet moans filling your lonely room and your empty

Natural Connection — Namjoon

The city sucks. And before you definitely choose to resign from your job, you spend the money earned with your all-work-and-no-play attitude in a reinvigorating holiday in a natural resort in the woods. What you find is true heaven on earth, an eden of wonders and explorations. When you meet your guide, who will follow you and you alone, you almost cannot believe your luck. The closed-off man leads you through all the breathtaking sights of your location, offering you emotions and landscapes unrivalled — both in terms of wildlife and... well, humans? The steamy atmosphere seems to keep growing hotter together with the summer days, and before you can think twice your big friendly giant helps you get rid of the hots. What happens when your Adam and Eve idyllium gets interrupted by a ruckus of stag-partying jocks?

Namjoon knew your average blood pressure at rest and under effort, your shoe size, your weight and height. Still when he found you right before him he could barely believe the sight of you. He knew you were small but this small? He was surprised. Amazed. Completely dazzled by your size. “Uhm. Kim Namjoon?” You asked, hesitant. God, even your voice was small — he noticed. As you got even closer, he realised you barely reached his sternum. He was endeared. He imagined how hugging you would feel. Why was he imagining to hug a stranger? “Hello! Welcome to the Valley!” He said, offering you his hand. You took it and shook it energetically. “Thank you. I assume you will be my guide during my stay.” You commented. “Exactly. I'll be your coach and your guide through the whole experience.” “Perfect.” You smiled. He was dumbstruck by it. So sweet and bright. You noticed he had a nice voice. And a kind smile. He looked like a very gentle giant. “Have you brought any specific equipment with you or would you prefer to use the one we offer?” “I have trekking boots and walking sticks. You know, basic stuff that's difficult to find when you're the size of a teapot.” He laughed a loud belly laugh, which surprised you and pleased you. “Okay, we can head to the hall and chat about your activity plan.” He said, leading you. Walking behind him was definitely a hard challenge, both because his legs were kilometric — and damn fine — and because how could you not stare at that ass right in front of your gaze, clad in oh-so tight shorts? Once he realized you were basically running behind him, he turned, a bit confused. And then embarrassed. “Sorry,” he smiled sheepishly, taking shorter steps. "Don't worry, it's okay. I'm a fast walker." You stated. He grinned. He barely stopped himself from murmuring a 'cute'. You were adorable.

Ink ‘n’ Run — Jungkook

People find awful ways to inculcate mean insecurities in our lives. It is to get rid of insecurity that you head to the talented tattooist in a small town near your campus, ready to ink your fears away. Ready to start from zero, you let yourself enjoy a night out clubbing and a steamy one night stand with a tattoed god. Hit by the morning-after regrets, you run away before he wakes up. Little do you know that he’ll be the man you’ll be spending several hours underneath, half-naked as he inks you. Such a shame that you keep running away each time he is ready to ask you for a date. And that he keeps running away after you convince yourself to concede him one. Will you manage to let each other see that you click perfectly or will you let that night be just an accident?

“Oh. You’re back. Lovely to see you, how can I help you?” He looks sweet. God, he was sweet, of course he looks sweet; you thought. He was the most gentle man you had ever been with. Wicked hips, but such a sweet mouth. “Uhm, I have an appointment?” You said, showing him the business card with the date and time of your appointment. “Oh.” His expression was the perfect depiction of confusion. “Uhm. I guess you can come into my studio, then. Do you have someone with you? Would you like Daisy to come in?” He said, looking at the girl sitting at the reception table. “No, I’m cool.” You forced yourself to form a tiny, polite smile on your face. As he walked ahead of you you noticed the way his tight black t-shirt hugged his narrow waist. And his wonderful, jeans-clad, toned ass. God, he had rammed into you like a mad man that night. You shook your head, trying to bring yourself back to reality. Meanwhile, his mind was fuelled by millions of questions. Why had you run? Were you freaked out by what was happening? Were you as affected as he was at the idea of him working on you? Did you think he was a fuckboy? Would you let him take you out on a date? Would you let him fuck you again? Wait, scratch the last one.

Head over Heals — Hoseok

You are the most talented ice skater of your state. Or rather, you were. Your career was harshly interrupted by an unfortunate accident. Healing from the hurtful events takes strong nerves and positive energy. Luckily, your physiotherapist — the neighbour of your childhood home — is the most positive, enthusiastic person. New feelings bloom like daisies on a warm spring morning, while old feelings rekindle and light your way back home like a field of fireflights, back to places that you’ve always loved. It takes little time to get used again to his sweet energy and his gentle hands, healing your body and your soul. It takes even less time to fall head over heels for him.

“What changed?” He asked, drying your tear with his thumb. “I don’t know. It feels like it changed.” He smiled. “You’re still the same to me. Same bright eyed little girl running around in a summer dress, smelling like honey shampoo and sun cream. You feel like home. I think nothing has been okay since you were gone.” Your heart took a second to melt and resolidify around that new truth. “Hobi.” His eyes were glittering. “I think I always had a soft spot for you. You and your knees always scraped, the small curls framing your face, the way your braids came undone that night as we were driving away after prom in the convertible your parents ran away in when they eloped.” He looked so sad. And so beautiful. “Hoseok, I never forgot you, you know. You were my first.” You confessed. “And you were mine.” He replied. He paused. “We were perfect.” “We were.” You replied. We still could be. We are.

Sugar and Spice — Yoongi

A new girl moves into town, her goal starting her life from scrap. And then on a foggy autumn night she ventures in the local pub, where she meets a cute, tattooed bartender who happens to be the local sweetheart. Fate — and the sweet granny next door — seem to push them together; it’s only a matter of time before feelings bloom and attraction becomes too intense to resist. The magic of a small town, and that loneliness that they share and understand so deeply, bring them close at the most wonderful time of the year. Love can blossom even in the dead of winter and who knows, maybe they’ll find a new life by the time of the new year?

“How does it feel to live in a small town?” You asked, stretching your legs out the flannel blanket. Sunlight came in through the yellow leaves of the apple trees. “Like time doesn’t really exist. Until you don’t have any left and suddenly your friends are getting married and having children and all you have is a useless piece of paper stating that you’re a doctor.” He said. “But it’s okay. It’s lovely, at times like this.” He said, looking at the sky. “Marriage and kids are overrated.” You said, laying down. He looked at you, your eyes closed, your hair coming out of his beanie, currently covering your head. “Don’t leave me alone here.” You had a beauty he had never known. Or that maybe he had seen in his mother. That rough, tough beauty that looks dangerous from afar. Delicate from up close. You weren’t gracious. You weren’t cobwebs and golden hair and clouds. You were the ground, the trees, the stone. You were the mountains capped in ice, beautiful and so endangered. Still, so steady. You were the forest, eternal. Nothing could marr you. No man, no humanly disgrace. You would weather and transform, like nature does. Maybe he was idealising you, maybe he was giving you all those traits he had always wished in a woman. “Stop staring at me. Lay down. Enjoy your seconds before you turn into a fifty-something lonesome worm.” You teased. He laid. Your hand found his. “I’ll tell you how a small town feels like, based on the opinion of a girl from a big city.” He exhaled a laugh. “It’s comfort. Like when it rains outside but you’re in your bed and you’re warm and you don’t have to get up. You can simply lay.” He rolled onto his side, staring at your eyelashes. If I blink, will she disappear?

[finnyboywolfhard]

Song That The Morning Brings (Chapter Nineteen)

Steve Harrington x Henderson!Reader 

catch up here 

summary: The group finds out new information about their problem and face a stepping stone in the right direction.

warnings: cursing, angst-ish, fluff, spoilers ig 

word count: 3.8k 

When she arrived home that night, all she wanted to do was put on some warmer, much drier clothes and to go right to bed. However, Dustin always found a way to change her plans.

“Y/N, we gotta talk.” He said coming into her room after they had both gotten changed. Sighing, she took a seat on her bed and placed herself underneath the covers. She patted a spot on the bed for Dustin and he took that as his cue to say what he wanted to say. “What the hell is happening between you and Steve?”

“What do you mean?!” She exasperatedly said.

“You guys have been different recently. It’s weird.”

“How are we different?” At this point, worry started to flood through her. What if Dustin somehow figured out how she was feeling or even what had happened between the two?

“I mean, you guys have always been close but it seems like you‘re closer. It’s almost like you’re taking your names of Mom and Dad literally. Plus, I saw you guys holding hands on the roof, even if it was for a second. Plus he gave you his sweatshirt after you guys stayed in the car together. So I want to know, what’s going on?”

“Dusty…” Y/N took a second to collect her thoughts. There was a few ways this could go: She could tell him everything; she could tell him some of the truth; or she could tell him nothing. “First off, I had this hoodie from October last year until like a month ago when I returned it to him, he just gave it back to me because I was cold. I hung back earlier in the car, because I’m scared Dustin, and I didn’t know who else to talk to but him, he is my best…he’s my best friend, remember?”

Dustin paused for a few seconds, obviously gathering his thoughts about what she had just said to him. It felt like there was a rubber band being pulled between the two of them threatening to snap.

“But you want to be more than best friends, don’t you?” Dustin said looking down at his hands. Y/N pulled her eyes away from her brother. She knew that he knew, but she couldn’t seem to let herself say yes to him.

“Would you be mad at me if I did?” She said, just barely above a whisper.

“I don’t know. Steve is my best friend and you’re my sister. I care about you both so much, but if something happened, I feel like I’d have to side with you.”  

“Dusty, seriously? You know that I would never make you chose between the two of us if something happened.”

“So there’s my answer. You do want to be more than best friends.” He said, voice edging towards anger. The girls hands started to shake a bit as she reached her hand out towards her brother.

“I don’t want you to be mad at me for that. There’s a lot that has happened between me and Steve that you don’t know about. It’s not like he wants to be more than that either, so it’s okay Dusty. Please don’t be upset.” Wariness laced her voice, as her concern grew stemming from her brother’s silence.

“You have to be stupid to think he doesn’t feel the same way about you, and besides, I’m not upset, I’m just a little scared because I don’t want you guys to lose what makes your relationship so special. You both just care about each other so much, and you’re both so willing to dedicate your time to others. What if that changes if you guys get together?”

“I can pinky promise you it won’t.” She said, reaching her pinky out. Her brothers pinky wrapped around her own. She released her hand and pulled him into a hug. They stayed in that position so long that they eventually dozed off.

The alarm startled them both awake, way earlier than they would have liked to have been woken up. But they still scurried around their house preparing themselves for the day of planning and adventure ahead. The drive to the mall was filled with Dustin’s zany ideas for what they should try to do next, most of which she had shut down as soon as they left his mouth. The only one she agreed to was allowing him to stake out on the roof while they all continued to work back at Scoops, because even though the three ice cream shop employees wanted to focus on the Russians, they still had jobs to fulfill.

Steve was sitting in the back room on his ten minutes off scooping, watching Y/N organize some files and then start to organize some of the toppings so she could restock them in a bit.

“Hey Y/N/N?” He asked, only receiving a hum in response, “Are you feeling any better from last night?”

Memories of her and Dustin’s conversation from last night filled her brain. Although in the moment it stressed her out, she felt at least a bit more relieved to have at least one problem off her chest to her brother. However, the imminent doom of the Russians was still largely at play. She stopped shuffling around to look at Steve, and his eyes were already on her. For some reason, his gaze sent shivers down her spine. She snapped herself back into reality after realizing how silent she had become just staring back at him.

“Um, I guess a little bit. I’m obviously still scared but talking to you helped, and knowing that Dustin always has multiple ideas is also kind of relieving.”

“Your brother is crazy smart. I don’t understand how smart he is sometimes.”

“Hey give me some credit! I’m pretty smart too, I’m not Dustin smart, but the Henderson family isn’t a dumb one.”

“Of course you’re smart Y/N, but Dustin…Dustin’s a full on nerd. Some may even say Dork.”

“I appreciate a good nerd or dork in my life. Don’t say em like it’s a bad thing, and don’t sell yourself short there either Harrington. You’re a dork too.” She smiled at him, noticing his cheeks flush a dimmer hue of red. His breathing became erratic, and he suddenly seemed to have forgotten how to form sentences. “Are you embarrassed Stevie?”

“No…just confused…how am I a dork?”

“You’re pick up lines are so cheesy and dorky, and you also know a lot about the things you are passionate about. You are a dork for things that matter to you. It’s endearing.”  The two kept chatting for a bit until Dustin burst through the doors of Scoops, explaining what he had seen, pulling Robin into the back as well.

“That keycard opens the door, but unfortunately, the Russian with this keycard also has a massive gun. Whatever’s in this room, whatever’s in those boxes, they really don’t want anyone finding it.”

“There’s got to be a way in.” Robin said.

“Well, you know…I can just take him out.” Steve said, leaning cockily against the table.

“Take who out?” Robin and Y/N said in unison.

“The Russian guard.” All three of the other members of the group started to give him confused and concerned looks before he decided to continue explaining his plan. “What? I sneak up behind him, I knock him out, and I take his keycard. It’s easy.”

“Did you not hear the part about the massive gun?” Dustin says, defining the idiocy in his statement.

“Yes, Dustin, I did. And that’s why I would be sneaking.” Y/N was trying desperately to hold back laughter as he continued trying to defend his plan.

“Well, please, tell me this and be honest, have you ever actually…won a fight?”

“Okay, that was one time-“

“Twice, don’t forget Jonathan after the whole Nancy the Slut Wheeler thing.” Y/N interrupted, pulling some angered thoughts from the recesses of her “King Steve” memories.

“Listen, that doesn’t count.”

“And why is that? He beat the shit out of you. You fared far worse that he did.” Y/N said once again.

“It was…” Steve tried to defend and explain how Jonathan didn’t count before Dustin interrupted him this time.

“You got a fat lip, crooked nose, swollen eye, a lot of blood…” Dustin and Steve’s argument started to overlap before Y/N noticed Robin say,

“That just might work.” She stood up from the table and ran out to the front counter. Her hand went into the tip jar to grab the money from it hastily.

“Robin, hey, what’re you doing?” Y/N said, trying to break Robin from her zone however it didn’t work.

“Hey! Robin! Hey! What-What are you doing?”

“I need cash.” She said not fully answering the question asked of her.

“Well, some of that is mine.” Steve said, earning a slap to the arm from Y/N. “Where are you going?”

“To find a way into that room, a safe way. And, in the meantime, sling ice cream, behave and don’t get beat up. I’ll be back in a jiff.”

“God, I really hope she knows what she’s doing.” Y/N said before looking over to see her brother licking Steve’s engraved ice cream scoop.

“Oh, dude! Come on, man, not my scooper.” Steve spun the scooper around his hand a few times before tucking it securely into his side pocket. It was a sight to behold from Y/N’s up close perspective. Their dynamic was hysterical to her.

“Dusty, come back here with me. Stevie, could you please scoop for a bit? I’ll come help you after I finish refilling the toppings.”

“Of course, Y/N/N, I’ve got it.” He flashed a smile, leading her own lips to upturn into one as well.

For the entire time Robin was gone, the three went about their business quietly. Dustin had stolen paper to write out a set of different plans of how to get into the room. Steve stayed out in the store front and scooped ice cream to the oblivious citizens visiting the mall. All the while Y/N was trying to focus on her work, wanting to keep that and the Russians separate. The silence in the backroom was interrupted by Robin pulling Steve into the back room once again, cohesively bringing them together once more. They all shared glances before Robin interrupted the still air.

“It’s fascinating what twenty bucks will get you at the county recorder’s office. “ And with that, she pulled out a set of blue prints for what looked like the mall and set it down onto the table. “Starcourt Mall, the complete blueprints” She said as her hands went across the thin paper to smooth it out onto the surface.

“Not bad.” Dustin said, appreciating her accolades.

“So this is us, Scoops, and this is where we want to get.” Y/N couldn’t quite understand what she was seeing standing across from Robin, so she moved to stand behind Steve, eventually leaning over his chair and shoulder, bringing her face right next to his. She stayed still there for a bit, despite the battling feeling of tension by being in such a close proximity. However, she quickly snapped back up when he began talking.

“I mean, I don’t really see a way in.”

“There’s not if you’re talking exclusively about doors.” She lifted the first set of blueprints up to expose another set.

“The air ducts.” Y/N said, making eye contact with Robin for the first time since she came back. Robin’s smile gleamed when Y/N realized what she had meant.

“Turns out, this secret room needs air just like any old room.” She walked over to grab a marker from the board before continuing what she was saying. “And these air ducts lead all the way here.” As she was talking, she drew connecting circles from the air ducts at scoops to the vent in the room. All four members glanced up to the vent in the room, all knowing exactly what needed to happen now. Steve immediately found a screwdriver and flashlight so he could give access inside the vent, while Dustin explained that he could fit into it to follow them there. Steve climbed up a ladder and unscrewed the vent cover, passing it down to Y/N before asking for the flashlight. He looked in again, scanning the entire surface area in his vision.

“Yeah, I don’t know man. I don’t know if you can fit in here. It’s like…super tight.”

“I’ll fit. Trust me. No collarbones, remember?” Y/N couldn’t help but laugh at her little brothers off handed remark about his condition. Just as Dustin was about to climb up the ladder, Robin remarked at his comment.

“Excuse me?” Before Y/N could even answer Robin’s question, Steve answered first.

“Oh, uh, he’s, yeah, he’s got some disease. Chrydo- uh, It’s Chrydo-something. I dunno.”

“He has Cleidocranial Dysplacia, basically his bones and teeth had developmental problems. Good try though Stevie.”

“Yeah, I don’t really know. But he’s missing bones and stuff. He can bend like Gumbo.” He quipped up once again.

“You mean Gumby?” Robin asked, dumbfounded.

“I’m pretty sure it’s Gumbo.”

“Stevie-“Before Y/N could continue, Dustin’s voice echoed down from the vent.

“Steve, just shut up and push me!” Steve reluctantly agreed to help try to push Dustin further into the vent. Y/N went to stand next to Robin, hopelessly watching the two try and fail to push her brother into the vent.

“Not my feet dumbass, push my ass.” Dustin commanded Steve.

“What?”

“Touch my butt! I don’t care! Come on Harder! Push harder!”

“I’m pushing.”

“Oh my god this is a shit show. Robin, I’m so sorry you have to see this.” The two boys continued to bicker while the girls just sat back and observed, slowly losing their patience for the plight playing out in front of them. The bell obnoxiously started ringing from the front of the store, grabbing both Y/N and Robin’s attention from the boys.

“Ahoy Sailors! All hands on deck!” Erica’s bratty voice resounded to the back room. Both of the workers let out a sigh at the thought of serving her especially as she was continuously ringing the bell. Robin leaned over to Y/N and said, “She is small enough.” Y/N’s eyes widened in shock, although the idea was quite literally the most insane thing she heard all day, she didn’t quite hate it either. It could very well work to her advantage. The girls went out into the store front and asked Erica to come to the back room. The explanation took a little less time than they thought, but they knew it was going to take way longer to convince her to go in for them.  They watched as she climbed up the ladder and peered into the duct. She came back down and turned to face the entire group.

“Yeah, I don’t know.”

“What don’t you know?” Y/N asked first, her brother following a second later.

“You don’t know if you can fit?”

“Oh, I can fit. I just don’t know if I want to.”

“Are you claustrophobic?” Robin inquired from the girl. Steve looked beside him towards Y/N, causing them to make a split second worth of eye contact, both clearly showing annoyance of this situation.

“I don’t have phobias.” Erica laughed off Robin’s question.

“Okay, well what’s the problem?”

“The problem is, I still haven’t heard what’s in this for Erica.” Condescension waded through her tone like ducks in a pond.

“Erica, really?” Y/N asked the brutal little girl.

“Yes really, you’re asking me to risk my life, and for what? You’re the only one getting advantages.”

“Erica, I will literally give you as much free ice cream as you want, Right Now, if you go out there and sit in the booth until we figure out what is in this for you.”

“Thank you, Y/N. You’re the only one who seems to care.” Y/N could hear Steve to start doing his breathy laugh, cluing her in to how angry he was becoming, so she reached her hand over and up, just slightly to place her hand on his arm, this got him to stop, just long enough for Erica to leave the room.  Once the door was completely shut again, Y/N dropped her posture to a slouch and mumbled the words, “Fuck me.” To herself before addressing the group once more.

“I vote we just butter her up until she says yes. The worst thing that can happen is she says no and we have to give up.”

“We can’t just give up Y/N! We are the ones who solved this code; don’t you at least want to find out what it is? We could be heroes!” Her brother quickly defended the plan and its honor.

“Yes Dusty, I know we could be heroes, but there’s only so much we can do safely. We need her help, regardless of how rude she can be, so I think we just try to convince her.” The room went silent for a beat before a voice interrupted the silence.

“Y/N’s right.” Steve agreed with his best friend.

“I’ll go start scooping.” Robin said, showing her agreement. The three workers immediately left to go make all of the treats they could use to bribe Erica. They sat down in the booth and slid each and everyone towards her. As Steve slid the final banana split to her, she looked up into his eyes and uttered the demand for more fudge. It took her demanding twice and for a small plea from Y/N for him to actually stand up to go get the small girl more fudge. Within seconds of Steve leaving the table, Robin immediately picks up and starts explaining the plan to Erica.

“Alright, you see this? This is the route you’re gonna take. Then we just wait until the last delivery goes out tonight. Then you knock out the grate, jump down, open the door.”

“Then you find out what’s in the boxes.”

“Exactly!” Y/N agrees optimistically.

“Mm-hmm. And you say this guard is armed.”

“Yes, but he won’t be there.” Dustin says way softer than he was speaking to Y/N a few minutes prior.

“And booby traps?” Erica asks, causing Robin to repeat it questioning what she meant. “Lasers? Spikes in the wall? You know what this half baked plan of yours sounds like to me? Child Endangerment.” She made sure to pronounce it slowly and articulately.

“We’ll be in radio contact the whole time-“Robin said, trying to make it sound safer and more hashed out.

“Ah, ah, ah! Child Endangerment!”

“Erica? Hi…uh…We think these Russians want to do harm to our country. Great harm, don’t you love your country?”

“You can’t spell America without Erica.” She quipped back in response.

“That’s…actually true.” Y/N said dumbfounded before allowing her brother to continue his attempt to convince her.

“SO, don’t do this for us. Do it for your country. Do it for your fellow man. Do this for America…Erica.” He said, completing in a poetic nature. Y/N couldn’t help but roll her eyes at her brother’s attempt to be noble. Clearly, this also hit Erica in the same nature.

“Ooh! I just got the chills! Oh yeah, from this float, not your speech. Know what I love most about this country? Capitalism. Do you know what capitalism is?”

“Obviously we know what that is.” Y/N responded.

“It means this is a free market system, which means people get paid for their services depending on how valuable their contributions are. And it seems to me, my ability to fit into that little vent is very, very valuable to you all. So, you want my help? This USS Butterscotch better be the first of many, and I’m talking free ice cream FOR LIFE.” Y/N sat back while Robin just looked the girl up and down. Y/N looked at her little brother who was just starting at all the ice cream laid out in front of him. Her gaze fell back to the counter where Steve was helping some customers. She admired how even though he should have been included in this deal, he would want them to do whatever they could to help out as many people as they could.

“I can’t guarantee for life necessarily, but I can guarantee free ice cream the entire time I work here.” Y/N finally broke the tension filled surface of the table.

“And I can add on for the entire time I work here, which will probably be longer anyways.” Robin backed Y/N’s end of the deal.

“I said FOR LIFE.” Erica leaned back and crossed her arms. Y/N once again rolled her eyes and let out a sigh.

“Fine, how about this, we each tell one new employee that you get free ice cream whenever we get replaced and that it must be honored by everyone but our boss. That way, as long as employees are here, they know that you get free ice cream. Deal?” Erica pondered it for a second before finally agreeing to it. Y/N excused herself from the table while Robin and Dustin stayed with Erica to go over the plan more in depth. Y/N walked up to the front counter just as Steve was wrapping up with the line of customers.

“Hey Stevie, could I talk to you for a sec?”

“Uh, yeah, of course. Did she agree to do it?” He asked as they passed through the doorway into the back room.

“What?” She asked before realizing that she heard what he asked. “Yeah, she agreed, speaking of we have to give her free ice cream when she comes, for life, apparently.  But that’s beside the point. I just…I really need to know if this is something you are truly okay with going through with. I know Dustin and Robin really want to do it, and I’ll do it if I have to, but I don’t want to drag you into Dustin’s mess,  because I really care about you and I don’t want you, or really any of us getting hurt. I care about you so much Stevie and I am so scared that something bad is gonna be in those boxes. So basically what I’m asking is if you are sure that you want to-“

“Y/N/N?”

“What?”

“Come here.” He opened his arms, which she immediately was wrapped in once she laid her head upon his chest. “ Y/N Henderson, I am doing this if you are doing this. I will not let you go into something potentially dangerous alone. You’re the most important person in my life, okay? Don’t worry about me. I’m right here. I’m gonna be right here.” The girl stayed in his arms for a few seconds, taking in his warmth and his smell and his touch. She cherished moments like these, even though they made her feel so much more confused on where their relationship stood. But in those moments, they kinda felt okay. They felt natural, and peaceful. And that’s exactly what she needed.

taglist: 

@mochminnie  @voidnarnia @queen1054 

[2manyfandoms2count]

#LadynoirJuly Days 4 and 5

To avoid being too late on the prompts, I’m just going to combine some of them from now on! Hope the banter is satisfactory, I wasn’t quite sure I was doing it right... Enjoy! xxx

@ladynoirjuly2020

Read the previous entries: Day 1, Day 2, Day 3

---

Days 4 and 5: Disguises and Banter

Ladybug waited outside the hospital, comfortably swaying in her long red and black dress. She was pretty satisfied with the design; she thought she’d nailed the elaborate XVIIIth century style, complete with small train, frills, ribbons and slightly puffy sleeves. The rich damask cloth, combined with the petticoat, kept her warm in the crisp October night air. It was going to be a cold winter.

Shrill sirens echoed from nearby streets, bringing her back to the matter at hand. She tried to ignore their meaning as she checked her Miracuphone for a sign of her partner. Out of all the days he could've chosen to be late, this one was possibly the worst. The children in the hospital weren't expecting the two Paris Heroes (they'd made sure to keep their visit under wraps to surprise them), but they were definitely waiting for their Halloween treats. And she wasn't going to disappoint them on that front.

As she was about to head inside, anxious to get to her mission, Chat Noir casually walked around the corner. In the semi-darkness of the street, she thought at first that he hadn't dressed up, but then she noticed his bandana and his large black shirt, taken in at the waist by his belt, from which his baton hung like a sword. 

"'Evening, m'lady." He bowed as he approached. "Your nickname is particularly fitting tonight, may I presume I was a source of inspiration?" He quipped as he took in the majesty of her dress. As a designer's son, he could appreciate how much work must have gone into the gown, not to mention its accompanying feathered hairdo.

"Don't worry, they're not real. Wouldn’t want you to sneeze all over a bunch of kids, would we Chaton?" She smirked as she caught him looking apprehensively at her hair accessories. "Also, I like your costume, Westley, but couldn't you have gone for something a little more… original?" She asked. Not that it wasn't a good costume; she did very much like the Princess Bride and its hero. She also appreciated how handsome her partner looked with a more rugged look.

"Sorry, Bugaboo, it's been a busy week." He shrugged apologetically. "Also, I thought we were making our own costumes, sans the help of actual designers. I would've asked Marinette too, otherwise." He said pointedly, indicating the designer's embroidered logo at the bottom of the skirt. 

Ladybug swore internally, while noting how much her partner paid attention to detail. She'd absentmindedly signed her work on her sketch, and forgotten to remove the gold stitching when she made it. She'd realised it a minute before leaving, and had counted on its discretion rather than risking being late. Oh well, as long as Chat believed she'd hired Marinette…

Chat continued his rant. "Plus you have it easy, as a woman. You can just slip on a dress to cover your costume! How am I supposed to cover all this leather, even a kilt wouldn't do." He pouted.

"What about a cape?" She winked at him as she slung her arm in his, directing him towards the hospital entrance.

"But Edna said no capes!" He gasped as they walked in, enjoying their proximity and giddy at the thought that she'd initiated it, for once. 

She rolled her eyes and shook her head in response, the small smile tugging at her lips giving her amusement away. 

She reluctantly (because it was slightly cold in the hall, of course) let go of Chat's arm as they approached the main desk and greeted the receptionist. Although the latter tried to keep a straight face, she could tell he was torn between surprise, internal fangirling (she wondered if there was a more gender neutral term for it) and a detached attitude. 

"Good evening sir," she smiled warmly. "I believe you have something for us." She looked behind him and pointed at the large hand trolley, on which were piled Tom and Sabine cake boxes. It wasn’t necessarily very traditional for Halloween, but then again, it wasn’t a very celebrated holiday in France, and she doubted the children had access to pastries very often.

It had been weird casually striding into her parents’ bakery as Ladybug and pretending to not know very much about their products, when she knew exactly what she wanted. She’d ordered enough to cover the sugar needs of all the Paris hospitals, complete with diet restrictions, so when Sabine had told her the order was on the house, she’d almost slammed all her money in the tip jar anyway. The way her Mum had looked at her then reminded her of when she talked back sometimes, and she knew better than to open that door. She had respectfully backed down on the payment front, but had been particularly zealous in the kitchen as Marinette to compensate. Marinette had also insisted on delivering the order straight to the hospital earlier in the afternoon, despite her parents’ reservations at the idea. It was the least she could do. 

“Oh yes, of course! Let me bring it out for you.” The lad almost tripped as he stood up, but thankfully didn’t crash on the trolley. That would have been awkward. As he wheeled out the bounty, Ladybug noticed how hungry Chat’s eyes looked as he followed the movement of the food. She smiled lovingly and leaned towards his ear. 

“Don’t worry, I saved you some.” She whispered, and he shuddered in delight at the thought of Tom and Sabine’s passionfruit macarons, chouquettes and croissants. 

“You sure know how to get to a man’s heart, m’lady.”

“By getting to his stomach first?” She asked cheekily.

They were interrupted by the receptionist clearing his throat, uncomfortably wringing his hands as he waited by the lift with the goods. Ladybug jumped away from her partner and made her way towards him, Chat hot on her heels.

“Thank you so much…” She trailed, waiting for the man to give his name.

“Patrick.” He completed, grinning. Ladybug knew his name, now. 

“Thank you, Patrick.” She smiled.

The heroes took their leave and ascended to the children’s ward. When the lift doors opened, they were greeted by a group of pirates, princes, princesses, witches, wizards, and even Miraculous impersonators, little treat bags at the ready as they waited with nurses in what Ladybug assumed was the ward’s lounge. The kids gasped and cheered as they walked out.

“Trick or treat!” Chat called out, earning himself a round of giddy laughter. Giving each other an understood glance, Chat and Ladybug separated into the small crowd, each going to one side of the room.

“You look like a princess!” A little Rena Rouge fan in an arm cast squeaked as Ladybug approached her.

“Thank you, Rena! But what happened to your arm? How will we fight the Akuma without your help?” Ladybug asked with her best shocked expression.

The little girl giggled in response, which made Marinette smile. She gave her some pastries “to help her recover quickly”, and went to join Chat. Her partner was having a pretend sword fight with a pirate. He was surprisingly good with children, she noticed. And he looked great laughing as he parried an attack. Did he fence, like Adrien? Maybe she could ask him to give her lessons. Not to spend more time with him, and definitely not to see him in a fencing uniform, which she had to admit would be particularly fitting on his muscled figure. It could just… prove to be handy if they ever swapped Miraculouses again.

She felt a small tug at her skirt, originating from the hand of a ten year-old boy wearing a Ladybug costume, sitting in a wheelchair.

“Hello there, Bugaboy!” She squatted down to be at eye level with him, her skirt sprawling out in a corolla at her feet. Some children bent down to touch the elaborate fabric. “What’s your name?”

“I can’t reveal my identity, or the Guardian will take my Miraculous away.” The boy grinned as she handed him a macaron.

“And you dare tell me you don’t say it that often.” Chat leaned on the back of a nearby chair, smirking. “Well done young man, you’ve done your research.” He winked at the kid.

Ladybug shook her head, refraining from saying that he was the one preventing them from knowing who was behind the mask now. She couldn’t say it out loud, there was some press around to record their visit, and even when they did sit down and talk about their identities, it would be best if the general public was kept in the dark about that knowledge for as long as possible.

“I want to be Ladybug when I grow up.” Mini Bug said proudly. 

“You’d put me out of a job?” Ladybug said with a fake pained expression.

“Not if you don’t want to!” The boy’s eyes went wide at the thought he might have offended his favourite superhero. “I just assumed you’d want to rest in the future. It must be very tiring to battle against Hawkmoth all the time.”

“He’s got a point there, Bugaboo.” Chat acquiesced. “She won’t listen to me when I tell her she also deserves some time off.” He fake whispered in the boy’s direction.

“That’s because you always want it to be time off for you too!” She scoffed. “You’re always inviting me for ice creams or movie dates at the same time, how am I to relax knowing nobody competent is watching over the city?”

Chat’s heart sung at the compliment. “If that’s the only thing keeping you from going out with me, I’m sure I can find a solution, m’lady. You know, Rena and Carapace would certainly do a grand job.” He tried to keep a detached demeanor, but knowing he was so close to her accepting to go on a date with him was making his heart go haywire. 

She pouted pensively, twirling a strand of hair that had fallen out of her hairdo, then shrugged. “As you wish, farmboy.” 

Her heart skipped a beat as she waited for his answer. It felt like time had slowed. Was this too soon? “Kelly” had only been out of the picture for about a month now. Was it enough time to get over someone?

A stolen glance at him answered her question. Looking at him, she could tell Chat was repressing a smile. His eyes twinkled as he looked at her like protagonists look at each other in romantic comedies. The way everyone should be looked at at least once in their life. He gave a nod in the direction of the room, reminding her they were not alone. She nodded back, their brief exchange imperceptible for common mortals.

If the warm hug and lingering kiss he left on her cheek as they parted after remaining a little longer with the kids were any indication, she knew she’d said the right thing. Although it could have also been credited to the bag of pastries she’d handed him a minute before.

[notquiteapex]

VodBot, the bestest little helper I ever did make.

Part 1 of... a number of posts! Everyone say hi and be nice to VodBot on GitHub.

January of 2020 rolls around, everyone’s excited for the new year of perfect eyesight. And then, the funniest thing happened…

Because of the world’s state of affairs leading into March 2020 I decided I should get some new hobbies. I bought my first 3D printer, an Ender 3 Pro, on eBay for just under $200 and it’s been weirdly enough one of my better financial decisions. I also began streaming on Twitch.tv in earnest around this time, and I had a goal to reach Affiliate status in just a few months (Twitch Affiliates are able to earn money from their streams through ads, bits, subscriptions, etc). In less than a month, through asking my friends to advertise my stream and constantly trying to put myself out there (probably breaking some community rules in the process, oops) I became an Affiliate and streaming sort of became a part-time-job-hobby! It was a lot of fun, and I’ve been streaming pretty regularly ever since.

Around October of 2020, I realized I kind of wanted to archive my streams somewhere for safe keeping. The best place to store lots of video data for literally no cost? YouTube of course! You can check out our existing archive channel which also links to all our Twitch pages here! I got to work, once a week I went to Twitch’s video manager page and had it queue up a download of my latest stream for me. I would slice it into different parts based on the games I played, which I had to get timestamps for manually. As you can imagine, this is pretty time consuming and boring. Not only that, but my friends also began streaming and some became affiliates around the same time, and getting them to do this task too wasn’t gonna be easy. So how do I make this task easier? Well, for starters, snakes. Let’s tangent!

Python is a wonderful programming language, it’s often one of the first languages that absolute beginners use because it’s grammar and functions are super easy to understand and use. It doesn’t have any sort of compile time, and is dynamically typed, meaning you don’t need to worry about waiting for anything. It also has thousands of pre-made libraries to make whatever task you’re trying to do so much easier. Lastly, Python also has the ability to send commands to other programs on the same machine, with relative ease.

VodBot’s first version was rather simple, it was made with Python. Use existing Python libraries to send some data to some URLs hosted by Twitch.tv to get info on previous streams (called Video-On-Demand, or VODs for short) and clips (slices of video made by viewers of fun moments on streams). It would do this through the Representational State Transfer Application Programming Interface, or REST API for short. Then, do some basic combing of this data to make sure that these videos weren’t already on the host system, and then pass the URLs for these streams to other programs like youtube-dl or streamlink to download the videos to the host system. Oh, also make a small file containing relevant metadata for the stream such as the title, the game, when it was streamed, etc. VodBot “shelled-out” these commands quickly to the other programs and let them do all the heavy lifting, which was just fine. I still had to slice up the video’s by hand, but it wasn’t too bad now that I could pull the videos down faster and leave this little script running in the background while I worked on schoolwork. Heck, I even learned that the program that youtube-dl and streamlink shelled-out to itself was the very capable ffmpeg, which I began to use to slice my videos much quicker without the overhead of a full video editor program.

Of course, this got old pretty quick too. Why can’t I automate this any further? What prevented me from simply queuing up these long videos and sending the relevant slices up to YouTube directly for me? Well, it turns out, not a lot! I'll talk about this more in the next part...

[goodwriterwithbadhabits]

Flight of the Little Bird: Three Months Later.

Previous | Master List 

Its the end! I know I said I’d have this up a few hours ago, but at least I finished it, right? (I’m still so sorry about the Late At Night series, I swear I’m still working on it.)

~~

“Dad, stop being mean to the bees.” Your laugh rings out across the large garden as you watch your father try to catch the bees buzzing around his tomatoes. “They’re friends.” 

“You wouldn’t say that if they were hornets.” He counters, adjusting the straw hat he was wearing. You both grin at his words, squinting due to the southern California sun. You had missed this place, with its sprawling land, the old adobe mansion your grandfather had bought so many decades ago, and even the bees that always returned to your father’s precious garden every summer. 

“Hornets are bastards, its different.” You point out, returning your attention to the pumpkins you were weeding. “How long do you think it’ll be until these babies are ready for the market?” You wonder, gently caressing the squash in front of you. 

“Not until early October at the earliest, we could sell them for Jack-o-lanterns” He informs you, finally leaving the bees alone to check his other garden inhabitants. “These cucumbers might be ready next week though.” 

“The bell peppers too,” You stand up, pointing to the section of garden he had set aside for his varied peppers. “We should check the mushrooms as well, I could make stuffed bell peppers and-”

“Honey!” Your mother’s voice has both of you looking back towards the house, and you can tell from the way she’s fiddling with her wedding ring that something is wrong. 

“What’s wrong, mom?” You call, and she immediately waves your concerns away. 

“Its nothing sweetie, I just need to talk to your father.” You don’t believe her, but still shrug it off anyway. You share a look with your old man, who’s clearly as confused as you are, “Don’t worry, we’re almost done weeding, I’ll finish up the pumpkins and go check the shrooms.” 

“Alright, thank you.” He tips his hat dramatically to you before following his wife inside the house. Weeding takes only a few minutes, so you find yourself meandering towards the front of the house to find the mushrooms before either of your parents have made it back outside. 

You wish they had come out to stop you.

The moment you round the side of the house, you’re met with two large black vans, a sight so familiar to you that for a moment you’re excited, wondering where you’re about to be whisked off next. Then, you remember. 

It had already been three months since you had left, and the boys hadn’t contacted you once, not even Mark, which hurt most of all. You had no doubt they probably hated you, so what were these vans doing here? Were you about to be kidnapped?

“Please, just hear us out.” A familiar voice begged. 

“Not a chance. If you had wanted to talk to her you should have called first, don’t think she’ll want to see you just because you showed up at her house.” Your mother argued, voice stern, a rare occurrence. Slowly the crowd of boys were backed out of the house, though none of them had noticed you yet. 

“Mom-” 

“Mark Tuan, don’t you dare “mom” me right now. You think you can just ghost my daughter for three months and I’ll welcome you back with open arms? It’s your fault she got her heart broken in the first place. If you think I’ll just forgive you in an instant-”

“Mom.” This time, it was you who called to her, making her stop and all of them looked over to you. Seeing you must have been a shock, the last time you had all been together you wore only designer clothes, stylish pants and dresses, things that screamed money. Now, you stood before them in dirty overalls and a work out tank top you had stolen from Jackson years ago. Your hat blocked the sun from your eyes, but you knew you looked tanner than before, having spent almost every day in the sunshine. 

“Oh honey, you were supposed to stay in the garden.” Your mom sighs, clearly distressed. 

“Mom, go inside.” 

“But-”

“Mom.” You say more firmly, finally tearing your gaze away from the boys to look at her. “I’m a big girl, I can handle my own problems. Go inside please.” She doesn’t say anything, just nods and turns around to head back inside. The moment the door closes, the boys surge forward, but your step backwards has them stopping. “Why are you here? My mom was right, you don’t make a single effort to contact me, and you just show up?”

“You really think you get to be upset right now?” Jinyoung asks. 

“Yes I do.” You retort immediately. “I apologized several times. I explained I was leaving the company but you were all still free to contact me, and none of you did. So yeah, I think I’m allowed to be upset.” 

“I’m sorry.” Mark pipes up, stepping forward to stand at the front of the group. “We were shitty friends, and I’m so sorry for that, but that isn’t why we’re here.”

“Then why are you here?” 

“We want you to come back, to come home.” Youngjae finally admits, voice small. There was no humor in your laugh as it bubbled up. 

“I am home.” You manage to say, throwing out your arms to gesture to the property. “Do you even understand why I left?” 

“Y/n.” JB tries to start but you stop him. 

“I left because your beloved Aghase turned on me and Jackson the moment they found out about us. They’ve always hated me. Every time I’ve been seen by them they spew nothing but hate and that takes a toll. I can’t do that anymore.” 

“They don’t hate you.” Mark almost yells. “And who cares if they do? We’ve spent three months trying to accept what you did but you didn’t think about how we would feel.” Mark was angry, a sight you had seen a few times, but had never been towards you. “You expected us to just forget about you, to move on. I have been your best friend for over two decades!” His heart broken shout made tears immediately spring into your eyes. “I would have understood backing away from the group, or even lying to the public about your relationship, but running away? That’s not like you.” 

“You didn’t try to stop me.” 

“Because I thought I would be okay!” He was crying now, and you felt about to but you tried your best not to let it break you completely. “I thought we would all be okay and I would just be upset for a while until I could see you again, but it wasn’t just me. Everyone has been upset, everyone has been hurt and it was your selfishness that did it!” 

“I did it for you, to protect you from those assholes who called themselves your fans!”

“That’s enough! Both of you!” Jackson interjects, stepping in between you. “You are both right, and both wrong.”

“Have you not been on social media at all since you got here?” Jinyoung asks casually, earning a shake of the head from you. 

“I didn’t want to see what the company said, or you guys.” You confess, letting out a deep sigh, trying not to burst into tears. 

“The boss wasn’t having it. He threatened to sue anyone who was defaming you, or spreading malicious comments.” Jinyoung explains, looking for something on his phone. “They published a post about you leaving, about how it was the fault of so many hateful comments, and that we would be taking an extended hiatus due to, how did he phrase it?” he pauses, trying to remember the words. 

“Stress and heartbreak from losing a dear friend.” Jackson says, refusing to look at you. “None of us wanted to keep going without you.”

“I told you, we couldn’t just forget about you.” JB pipes in, taking the phone from Jinyoung to show you. 

Comment from: @/wang-gaepark-gae:

What the hell is wrong with people? Jackson and Y/n should be allowed to date without everyone throwing a fit #justicefory/n

Comment from: @/y/n_protection_squad:

Her concepts were so cool! Who cares that they were dating, y’all just took the coolest production designer away from them! This is why we can’t have nice things. #justicefory/n

Comment from: @/wouldletbam_bam:

Does this mean we’re getting the person who did girlsgirlsgirls back? Cause I’ll find Y/n myself if that’s the case.

Comment from: @/notjae6: 

Even if you didn’t like their relationship, you didn’t have to ruin everything for everyone. You probably ruined her life #justicefory/n

Comment from: @/aghasefory/n:

Is this why Youngjae looked so sad in his last Vlive? Wait what about Mark? They were besties right? #justicefory/n

“Are they all-?”

“Most of them. Our fans really like you, and they love your work more.” Jinyoung explains. “They’ve trended the Justice for Y/n hashtag for almost three months, and they’ve been releasing their fav clips of you.”

“Wait, clips of me?” 

“Yup, people saw you a lot more than you think. You are the person we were closest to besides our managers.” Mark chuckles, wiping his eyes. 

“The boss already agreed to let you come back. He says he’ll make sure any malicious comments are met with legal action.” JB interjects, giving Jinyoung his phone back. 

“Why does it matter so much?” You almost huff, refusing to look at the boys, knowing it will make you start crying. 

“Because we could have lost you. Forever, permanently.” Jackson finally spoke up. “Mark told us about high school, and about the bridge.” Your heart rate increases drastically as you think back to that day, the day you almost died. 

“We’ve been so worried this whole time.” Mark begins. “So worried I would never get to see you again.” 

“So why didn’t you call?” 

“You said you wanted to leave, and we did our best to respect that.” JB explains, stepping forward, now not only as your friend, but as Got7’s leader. “So we are here to apologize, and to ask you, beg if we have to, to come home with us.” All seven of them drop into a 90 degree bow, each one apologizing at once. You glance towards the house, where your parents are pressed to the screen of the front window, listening to the whole conversation. Both of them nod vigorously, gesturing towards the boys. A small chuckle bubbles up from your chest as the tears start spilling onto your cheeks. 

“I’m so sorry, you guys.” You squeak out, making them slowly come upright, “I thought I was going to be okay, I thought you would just forget about me, and I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have left.” Their faces erupt into grins, with Mark dashing forward to scoop you into a tight hug. The other boys join in a second later, squishing you at the center of the circle. “I really missed you guys.” You croak from where your face is squished into Jackson’s shoulder.

“We know.” Bambam grins, patting your head. 

“And now you're not allowed to leave.” You bring your head up, finally looking into Jackson’s eyes. 

“Deal.”

~~Tag List: 

@dreaming-hope25

@equesasprokishi

@rxbelprxyer

@destroyed-and-damned

[wolfhuntsmoon]

Sarah Rogers and how Steve inherited ‘stubborn little shit’ from the womb

Okay, so I was noodling on Sarah after reading her Marvel wiki and some extraordinarily good posts about how EG Steve should have gone back to see his mum instead of Peggy etc and the timings of Steve’s early story struck me as... interesting.

Steve is born on 4th July 1918, before the end of WWI, meaning he would have been conceived in September or October of 1917 - that is, if he was born on time or only a few weeks premature. Which, given the tech and prognosis for preemies in the early 20th century, must have been the case because things were grim enough even if you weren’t born prematurely, for both baby and mother. If you were giving birth, you had a 6% chance of dying in Ireland in this period - roughly comparable with the rest of Europe but shockingly high by our standards. The odds were better if you were rich, but not by that much. Childbirth remained the leading cause of death for women worldwide until the late 1940s, remember. And kids fared no better. One in five children born in Dublin in this period died before their 5th birthday. Again, the figures would be better or worse depending on how well off you were, but even the richest still suffered appalling infant mortality rates.

Anyway, depressing history of women’s health aside, this means that Joseph Rogers, American solider, and her, must have been doing the do about then, and probably seeing each other on the regular before that, because believe you me, casual sex in the early 20th century was a big no no. Not to say it didn’t happen, but usually only via prostitution ESPECIALLY in Ireland, because the Catholic Church ruled supreme there even more than the British did and contact between the sexes was very restricted and frowned upon. Sex ed was nonexistent, and women knew that even a whiff of scandal about them was enough to ruin them, their entire family, and the rest of their life. It’s a hackneyed joke because it’s true: Ireland is small and everyone knows everyone. You would get found out and then suffer the consequences - sent to a mother and baby home if you were lucky, and those places were worse than prisons sometimes. That cultural context would carry over even if Sarah wasn’t actually in Ireland at the time.

So, likely they were married by then, because again: social ruin. The Marvel wiki says they were married, but not when. (I know nothing about the comics, I’m sorry) Soldiers and their sweethearts often married very quickly, and there are actually quite a few accounts of nurses falling in love and marrying the soldiers they tended. (More on this later) However, if she was widowed and could have the child respectably, why not return to Ireland? With, presumably, a support network that makes emigrating to America a worse, not better, prospect? This is the crux of my theory: Sarah Rogers was seen as an unmarried mother, and treated as such, because she married Joseph abroad, probably without permission, and when he died, had no social proof of the marriage. And in those days, unmarried mothers either: aborted in secret, had the baby concealed by the church where they were then taken and given up for adoption, or were cast out with nothing and ostracised if they decided to keep the baby. Sarah ending up in America strikes me as her taking the third option, and indeed the only option she could, to keep her baby.

But first: Joseph and Sarah need to meet in order to get down and dirty. How? He’s an American soldier who would never have set foot in Ireland in WWI - the British government kept their troops there, obviously, but the Americans were all put straight onto the continent or mainland Britain once they crossed the Atlantic from 1917 onwards (remember the US only joined in WWI in April 1917). In fact, the US wasn’t able to send significant numbers of troops to Europe until the following spring of 1918, because their army was so small and outmoded for trench warfare they basically had to send a lot of stuff over until they had enough trained bodies, which took about a year to organise. Based on this, if Joseph and Sarah were making baby Steve in September 1917, Joseph must have been in the regular US army before it entered the war, and likely in for quite a long time and experienced, to be sent over so soon. That experience would have been invaluable, meaning he never would have been assigned to stay in Ireland even if the US did send troops there. He would have been deployed straight onto the battlefield.

In which case, if Joseph never sets foot in Ireland, then how does he meet Sarah? Well, we’re told she’s a qualified nurse, and that was a solidly middle class job back then. You needed to have a good education, beyond primary level (which was all that was free for kids back then - you had to pay for secondary or tertiary level) and speak English well. In addition to that, your training to be a nurse took three years, and you weren’t paid or funded at all for those. So I don’t buy the theories that she emigrated to America only speaking Irish and totally penniless. Sarah most likely came from quite a well off family to become a nurse, although it’s not impossible she rose from much humbler circumstances as there were a number of scholarships and the like for the deserving poor set up by rich upper class ladies bored out of their minds drinking endless teas in salons who liked to do things like Help the Poor but only if they’re Pure and Mannerly. Qualified nurses were paid about £40/year in WWI by the British government, when your average domestic maid would have been earning about £20/year - quite a big difference.

Either way, Sarah, as a nurse, was exactly the kind of woman the British government was desperate to recruit by 1915-1916 when the true scale of modern attritional warfare became clear, and no longer pussyfooted around keeping women and their delicate sensibilities away from the battlefield. The Battle of the Somme between July-Nov 1916, for example, claimed the lives of over 20,000 British soldiers ON THE FIRST DAY. The British alone sustained over a million casualties (dead, missing or wounded) across the whole battle. They couldn’t afford to stay prudish. There were just too many casualties to deal with. They even opened up medical degrees to women without restrictions because they were so desperate! Which was a big part of the reason why Britiain introduced conscription for the first time in 1916, including in Ireland (which led to the Easter Rising and Irish War of Independence, hoo boy was that a mistake). Droves and droves of young women were recruited to fill all sorts of jobs while the men were away, but a large number also went overseas to the battlefields of Belgium and France. Sarah must have been one of them. If she was qualified beforehand, she would most likely have been sent to work in a field hospital abroad, because the voluntary members were mostly kept working as assistants on the British mainland. Lots of women joined these Voluntary Aid Detachments (VADs) at the start of the war to nurse wounded soldiers, but the military hated the idea of using them until they couldn’t cope in 1915. Even then, volunteers were only used for the more menial tasks. Professionals like Sarah were what was needed the most.

Now, I’ve said that she likely came from a middle class family, so money probably wasn’t a worry until after she got to America, later on. Why go, given the pay wasn’t significantly more than you’d earn as a nurse at home? Well, the rigid social hierarchy of the time broke down in some pretty major ways out there, and it was likely the only chance an unmarried woman would ever get to travel that wouldn’t immediately ruin her reputation. And if you accept more the idea she became a nurse via scholarship and was poor, the increase in pay working abroad would have been sorely appreciated. And we can also consider patriotism might play a role - not all Irish were rabidly anti-British before 1916. Indeed, many ordinary and middle class Irish only became ardently nationalist in the wake of the brutal repression following the 1916 Easter Rising. And more than that, many Irish, even if they disliked the British, disliked the idea of the Germans and Austrians-Hungarians winning the war even more. Personally, I think Sarah was an adventurer who seized her chance to escape the restrictive social confines of Ireland and didn’t once look back, even if her family disapproved.

I couldn’t find a birthdate for Sarah, or a maiden name to tell me where she might have hailed from (thanks, Marvel. Not.) But let’s say she was part of that first initial wave of volunteers who signed up in 1914 - because it was HUGE. It’s really difficult for us, so jaded now, to get into the mindset of people then, but they did sign up in huge numbers. Partly due to patriotism, partly because they thought the war would be over by Christmas, partly fear of being shamed for not ‘doing their bit’ - there were lots of reasons. But it’s very telling that the British government didn’t feel the need to introduce conscription for men until two years after the war broke out, and they never introduced a civilian equivalent. So Sarah would have been very familiar with the horrors of the battlefield and the war by the time fresh faced Joseph Rogers arrives on the scene in 1917.

How did they meet? Sarah would have most likely been working in a field hospital, overseeing a team of volunteers. Field hospitals were behind the front lines, but only by a few miles, and nurses were killed by enemy shelling and gas attacks. They were the first real point of medical care most soldiers would encounter after having bandages slapped on them at a dressing station in the trenches, before being carted off to the field hospital (if they survived the journey) by stretcher bearers, horses, or increasingly as the war continued, motorised ambulances. So Sarah and her ilk were lasses made of steel, honest to god. They were in the thick of the worst of it, men screaming and dying, and often afraid for their lives while they tried to care for them. A lot of those nurses developed PTSD (then called shell-shock) as a result. Jospeh is most likely to have met her if he was a wounded patient of hers brought in from the battlefield. But only lightly wounded - if he had been badly wounded he would have been shipped straight back to mainland Britain to convalesce as soon as he was stabilised, thwarting any budding romance.

We’re also told that Jospeh dies in a mustard gas attack. So this hospital trip must have been for something different - a broken bone perhaps, or a minor shrapnel wound that would see him off duty for a while but still stationed in the area and therefore able to court Sarah. Young people (Sarah must have been less than 28 because that was the cut off age for nurses to be recruited in 1915-1916) being young people, I imagine they fell in love, fell in to bed, and biology did its magic. The timescale on this is open to interpretation, because the ABSOLUTE earliest they could have met is May 1917 (travel time by ship from America to Europe took weeks during the war), and Steve must have been conceived by October, latest. Which is a pretty whirlwind romance, but not unusual for the time. The Germans first used mustard gas from July of 1917, but Joseph must survive up until September/October.

So, that cause of death as mustard gas? This is strange given how mustard gas was well known at the time to be the ‘best’ gas to have inflicted on you. It produced horrific blisters and burns, particularly on the inside of your throat and airways, but rarely killed. Chlorine and phosgene were MUCH deadlier. So Marvel saying this is more poor research, but let’s go with it - gas affecting you would make it that much more likely you’d be caught by machine gun or shellfire or any of the other myriad ways to die on a WWI battlefield. Here’s where things start to align quite nicely (well, badly for Sarah, but good for fic writers) as mustard gas was deployed by the Germans on a large scale between October 9th-12th to defend the Passchadaele Ridge from a joint British and French assault on the German defences. This was part of the second biggest battle of WWI, the Battle of Passchendaele, notorious for the seas of mud men had to slog through up to their waists, and one of the battles which, like the Somme, gave WWI generals such bad reputations. In three months the British lost 350,000 men and advanced just a few kilometres. They abandoned the battle on November 10th.

So, Joseph Rogers? Must have died between October 9-12th, well before Sarah realised she was pregnant even if Steve was conceived at the start of September. Likely he was caught in a mustard attack, started choking because he couldn’t get his gas mask on/hadn’t got it fitted properly, and then was killed by gun or shellfire after his initial injury. Mustard gas took time to affect the skin and membranes of the body, so if he fell while the gas was still around, it would have looked much worse by the time his body was identified and retrieved from the battlefield. The date, however, means Joseph died never knowing he was going to be a father (sad!), and Sarah, newly widowed, likely didn’t see any reason not to continue working as a distraction until she encountered the first signs of preganancy. The stiff upper lip thing was a real coping mechanism back then. She would have been kicked out as soon as anyone could tell, or she told them and got kicked out, because that was legal and expected then. Pregnant women were fired for being pregnant in any job, and the idea of a pregnant woman working in a theatre of war, as you can imagine, would have outraged everyone.

So, Sarah gets kicked out, has no job. She’s widowed and pregnant. But, the marriage would probably have taken place without her family’s permission (letters were pretty slow and heavily censored on the front lines, the timeframe likely wouldn’t allow for anything except a note telling them she married) and although she would have had a marriage certificate, turning up at home without a husband but with a baby from a military camp? Would have been a deep, deep scandal at the time. Particularly if Sarah came from a middle class family who would have been extremely conscious of their social position and the danger she and her baby posed to it. Catholic mores plus unsanctioned marriage plus Irish social structures equals daughter returning in disgrace to besmirch the family name in a way that is literally unthinkable at the time. Family therefore issues an ultimatum - come back and get rid of the baby and the marriage cert so you can be respectable, or don’t come back at all. I really cannot stress this enough - families would, and did, prefer to say the woman had died and never have any contact with them again, rather than accept an unmarried mother back into their house.

Sarah, being Sarah though, grits her teeth, spits in God’s eye, and packs her bags for the first steamship to New York. She was a lot better equipped than most to make the journey, with some savings from her salary and a profession she could rely on once she arrived. But it was still a recklessly brave thing to do because at this point in time the ENTIRE Atlantic was infested with German U-Boats who were doing their level best to sink any Allied or Allied associated ship they could get in their periscope sights. And they were terrifyingly effective in 1917, although by the end of the year when Sarah would have beeen sailing, countermeasures like the convoy system had greatly reduced this. But still scary as fuck, because by that point the German U-Boats were even sinking hospital ships - until then left alone by both sides.

She probably arrived in the US in January or February of 1918 - it would have taken time to arrange her travel and the journey itself took 3-4 weeks. Little Steven G Rogers came into the world on July 4th, 1918, without a clue as to the sacrifices his mother made to keep him and bring him to America, or the heartache she endured in the previous years. And that, my fellow nerds, is why Sarah Rogers is AWESOME and a sorely underused character and development point for Steve in the MCU. Because to do what she did, and to make it through took more than guts, it took sheer bloody-minded spite and stubbornness, and hey - who does that remind us of? Steve doesn’t grow up and get angry and fighty - no, he’s got that shit in his GENES from Sarah from the beginning.

EDIT: Part 2 is up! Consisting of Sarah’s journey and entry to America, plus how Very Not Good it was to be Irish whilst trying to do so.

[vanchlo]

The Assistant / Chapter Twenty Nine, “Strength In Weakness”

Warning! This story contains mentions of: death, cancer, heart attacks, hospitals, funerals, and brief mentions of end of life care. 

Find all chapters by clicking here :-) 

Check out inspo tag here! :*

                                     Sneakyyyyyy Peeeeeeeeek

Our tears hold silent words of understanding. Understanding that the other is in pain. Pain perhaps we can’t name, but that of which we share. And they hold the comfort found in that understanding. The pain of watching a sick loved one, because why else would he also be here at 9 pm on a Wednesday night? His sniffles fill my ears, with the movie a hum in the background. I feel everything pour into those tears as I clutch the back of his jumper.

The missing him. The regret. The hundreds of emotions because of that stupid ring. The longing for him. The whirlwind of emotions from when he spoke to my class. The sad happiness at seeing him behind me at the vending machine. The relief. The worry about my dad. The fear from the surgeon’s words. All of the stress. The pain I’ve bottled up from being away from him.

“Harry,” I say aloud, almost on accident. My head would’ve said it, anyways. 

“Becks,” he whispers, sounding disbelieving with a shake of his head. 

“Do you h-have any recommendations then?” I stutter, blinking hard with a mental curse for not even being able to say three words to him before screwing up. 

“Uh, tha giant cinnamon roll isn’t too bad, ‘specially when ya microwave it. ‘s very filling, tho. I doubt ya'll be able t’ finish it all,” he answers with a soft shrug. 

I pull my battered purple wallet from my brown purse. Finding my card, I swipe it and press the code for the cinnamon roll. The curly wire holding it in place unravels. It falls with a satisfying thud. 

“Maybe I’ll have to find somebody to share it with then,” I quip, turning to face him with the cinnamon roll now clutched in my hand. He wasn’t kidding, this thing is big. 

“Well, I might just know where a microwave ‘s,” he replies with a smirk. I nod and follow his long legs clad in fitted joggers. 

The silence is unsettling and awkward as I follow him down the length of the hallway. I wonder at first if he knows where he’s going, but after about twenty seconds, we arrive in the family room on this floor. Hmm, perhaps he’s been in this hospital longer than he can remember, too. Sofas and chairs surround a tv. Familiar puzzles, magazines, and books occupy the nearby table. The fridge hums and clunks nearby. 

“Think there’s anything good on the telly at this time?” I ask nervously, finding a seat on the comfiest sofa around. Fiddling with my hands, I watch him open the bag and place it inside the microwave. 

“Prolly not. ‘s prolly a buncha adverts an’ tha like. Maybe a good movie on somewhere,” Harry answers. 

I blink hard, and yet the same unbelievable image still surrounds me. 

Harry standing with his back to me. 

Black joggers hugging his lean legs. 

Black trainers. 

A gray hoodie donning his upper half. 

His curls are short, but maybe a little longer since the last time I saw him in that lecture hall. 

He plays with them, but stops when the microwave announces its ends with annoying beeping. It’s hard, but I rip my eyes away from his body and reach to pick up the remote. I see him out of the corner of my eye grabbing plates and utensils. The television screen comes to life in front of me, and sure enough an advert for a special type of pillow fills the screen. 

“Christ, not one o’ those my pillow adverts again,” Harry remarks disdainfully as he sits down on the other side of the sofa with a sigh. I toe off my shoes and let them fall to the floor. 

Crossing my legs criss-cross applesauce, I giggle and change the channel. “You say that like you know what he’s talking about.”

“Yeah ‘cause I do, tha bloke’s bloody annoying. I can’t sleep some nights an’ ‘ll accidentally leave tha telly on an’ wake up t’ his bleedin’ voice at 3 in tha morning,” he huffs, pulling a laugh from my lips. “Here ya go, but be careful cuz ‘s hot.”

“Thanks.”

“No, thank you. ‘ve been cravin’ one o’ these, but ‘ve been tryna stay away from those bloody vendin’ machines,” he mumbles, tsking his lips as he cuts a piece of the cinnamon roll. 

I prop my plate on my lap and surf through the channels before finding the movie, The Shining, on an odd channel. “Oooooo, this is a good one,” I comment before picking up my plastic knife and fork. 

“Yeahhhhhhh. Hey, I wouldn’t ‘ave pegged ya fer a King fan,” Harry comments and I shrug before laughing at him. I watch him blow on the huge steaming bite of cinnamon roll. “What, ‘m hungry an’ tha cafe closed hours ago? Plus, dis floor has tha best vendin’ machines.” 

“Nothing, I . . . just can’t remember you ever being patient enough to not burn your mouth,” I laugh, and watch one trickle from his lips. “You were always burning your tongue and mouth on those tacos, and gnocchi soups we had. It looks like nothing’s changed.”

“Oh, but tha churros an’ chocolate sauce were even worse. They were always pipin’ hot,” he adds with his mouth full of ooey gooey cinnamon roll. An uncalled for dirty thought pops into my head, making me clench my fist.

I laugh in agreement, making it hard to blow on my bite of cinnamon roll I hold before my lips. After recovering, the chunk of warm pastry melts in my mouth. “Wow, you weren’t kidding, this is good. How is it always that the trashy vending food tastes the best?”

“I dunno, I reckon they put somethin’ innit t’ make it so addictin’. Tha’s how they make so much bloomin’ money,” Harry comments, cutting another bite as he speaks. My eyes are drawn to his hands. Long fingers, speckled with dark brown hairs. And covered with a couple of rings. When my eyes flit to his ring finger, nothing’s there. My heart does a weird somersault in my chest. At the same time, it pushes away the questions forming in my head. 

Surprisingly, a comfortable silence surrounds us as we eat. And our eyes are glued to the screen playing the end of the movie. Harry finishes his plate first, surely burning his mouth at some point. I finish soon after and we just sit there, lost in the movie. I can’t help peeking at him a few times, and that naked finger. Thick stubble lines his cheeks. It suits him. And I like it. 

I see tiredness pulling at the corners of his eyes when they look back at me. “What?” he says, eyebrows furrowed. I shake my head with blushing embarrassment as the thought still sits there. His lips curl into a smile that grows teasing. 

“N-nothing.”

“I don’ believe you,” Harry continues, refusing to let it go. “Ya’ve neva been a good liar, Becks. C’mon, tell me.”

“Fine,” I relent, watching his face brighten at my words. “It’s just odd. I uh, noticed you were wearing a ring on your ring finger when you spoke to my class back in October. But, now you’re not.” the observation tumbles from my mouth, glad to greet the air. Finally, yet awkwardly. 

My heart sprints in my chest, afraid to hear what he has to say. Apprehensive to hear the answer that I’ve been searching for. I try to prepare myself for it, but at the same time, something inside of me tries to keep me rational. 

“Oh, ya noticed that?” he smiles, earning a nod from me. “Good, that was tha point. Well, not you, jus’ anybody. Tha bloody uni girls always flirt with me when I do those talks. So I wear dis random ring on that finga, hopin’ they’ll back off. It helps, but doesn’t solve tha problem,” Harry explains. His words wash over me like cold shower on a hot day. 

I silently release a breath I wasn’t aware I was holding. Then I hear that familiar chuckle of his. 

“What, did ya really think I was married, Becks?” 

I finally look over at him. His eyes crinkle with a knowing grin. I shove his arm and he only giggles harder. “I don’t know,” I confess quietly, looking away with embarrassment. 

I don’t know how I’m going to live this one down. 

But soon a laugh is coaxed from my lips to join his. It’s filled with nothing but relief, and happiness. That though had balled up into a knot in the back of my head. Always bothering me at the worst moments. It worried me, even though I knew I didn’t have that privilege anymore. 

Any more thoughts that were coursing through my skull about it, are finished by his words. “No, ‘m not bloody married, or engaged. Although I thought I’d be at 28, ‘m not even close,” Harry divulges, a sad laugh framing his words. 

My laugh quiets along with his as we enter uncharted waters. I look at him and give him a sympathetic smile. My eyes leave him, but I feel his on me. I wait, wondering if he’s going to say something. After several seconds, I decide to speak. 

“Yeah, well-,” I begin, but I stop when his words tread over mine. 

“How ‘bout you-,” Harry tries to say, but stops when we both start talking at the same time. Another laugh floats between us, and ends in an uncertain silence. 

“Looks like yer better off than me, an’ met a nice bloke at tha uni.” Twirling a silver ring around my pointer finger, his words root me from my spot. My eyes widen at them and then I squint. I try to think of what he means, but it’s hard. 

Unexpectedly, I realize what he’s talking about. And I smile because of the alarm shouting in my head. 

Wait, what does this mean?!

You know what this means, Becky! Maybe he has fe-

“You mean Simon?” I ask, cutting them off before I go too far. 

I really don’t want to go to that place again. We ran into each other at the hospital during a shit day. That’s all. 

“Oh ‘s that his name? I dunno, jus’ looked like ya were with someone. Had his arm ‘round ya,” Harry says in a drawl. Now, his eyes are back on the telly. On Jack Nicholson. 

And there, the thoughts come again. They click together like puzzle pieces. But I don’t let them lead me away from this moment. From reality. 

But, Becky, he lik-!

“No no, Simon . . Simon’s just my friend. We kind of knew each other in high school back in Madley. We were both surprised to see each other in Crim. and we picked up where we left off,” I tell him, peeking a look over at him. But I have a good feeling he’s pulling a Becky and avoiding eye contact. “Plus, Simon has a boyfriend named Dylan.”

“Ohhhhh, my bad,” Harry replies, glancing over at me. When we meet eyes, his crimson face dissolves into giggles. 

They’re contagious and bring one forth from my lips. All of a sudden, I can’t stop laughing. And neither can he, it seems. It feels so nice. The laughs keep coming, rolling over each other. Smoothing over the fissure that ring had eroded inside of me. They make me feel less stupid about the whole thing. Instead, they help me to acknowledge the fact that it was just a misunderstanding. And that evidently, they happen to all of us. I try not to read into it any more than that as our laughs die down. I won’t let myself. A comfortable silence fills the space our laughs previously did. 

A scene from the movie catches our attention, and the misunderstandings are seemingly forgotten. I really get into the movie for the next 10 minutes, and I think so does he. I can barely tear my eyes away. But they leave the telly when he pulls his phone from his pocket. I watch his face turn from calm to upset when he reads something. On the other side of the couch, he types something back quickly. But I see the tears soon pricking at the corners of his eyes as he holds his forehead. 

I don’t know what to say as I look away, trying to give him privacy. But then I hear him sniffle and try to clear his throat. I know how that goes, and that it doesn’t work. It doesn’t make the lump in your throat go away. He sighs and when I chance another look, he’s looking away from me. But I hear the crying. Suddenly, I feel my heart break, even more than it already has today. 

Before I know what I’m doing, I’m scooching over to sit next to him. Seeing his left hand sitting on his knee, I pick it up and lace my fingers with his. I give it a squeeze and return my eyes to the telly. And wait. A familiar scene unfolds in front of me on the screen. I don’t even grimace at the blood like I did when I was a child. I take comfort in the nostalgia tied to this movie for me. But it doesn’t drown out the sounds of Harry crying. And the pain I feel at not being able to help him. 

After a few more minutes of watching the movie, no words pass between us. But then I think to check on him again. As I do, he looks over at me with red eyes. Wet from spent tears that keep coming. A shy smile inches up his lips, but it’s an embarrassed one. And so it doesn’t last long. 

“You’re gonna make me cry,” is all I say, because the tears are already bleeding into my words. We pull the other into our arms where we go to cry on their shoulder. 

Our tears hold silent words of understanding. Understanding that the other is in pain. Pain perhaps we can’t name, but that of which we share. And they hold the comfort found in that understanding. The pain of watching a sick loved one, because why else would he also be here at 9 pm on a Wednesday night? His sniffles fill my ears, with the movie a hum in the background. I feel everything pour into those tears as I clutch the back of his jumper. 

The missing him. 

The regret. 

The hundreds of emotions because of that stupid ring. 

The longing for him. 

The whirlwind of emotions from when he spoke to my class. 

The sad happiness at seeing him behind me at the vending machine. 

The relief.

The worry about my dad. 

The fear from the surgeon’s words. 

All of the stress.

The pain I’ve bottled up from being away from him. 

Fistfuls of my hoodie are balled up in his hands. His prickly face is hidden in my neck where he spends his tears. I long to lose my fingers in his familiar hair to comfort him. But I know that I’m already doing that as we share each other’s pain. His clean scent fills my nose as I breathe shakily against his shoulder. 

“‘s my granddad, Becks,” he chokes out, coughing. “H-he hadda heart attack this afternoon. Dunno if he’ll make it. He’s onna ventilator with machines keeping him alive. I neva wanted t’ see him like that. An’ tha thing ‘s, he has in his last wishes t’ not live like that . . . A-and now my family’s askin’ me if I wanna be there when he passes,” his words stop, making my heart grow heavy with each one. 

“I’m so sorry, Harry. That should never be a decision you have to make,” I tell him in raggedy breaths. “It’s so awful watching somebody die. Not even just in the moment, but after. When my granddad passed, right when I started working for you, I was there when it happened. And it still haunts me to this day. My mum forced me to be there, and I think I wished I hadn’t. It was terrible watching him gasp for air, and not knowing when would be his last breath. But at the same time, I’m glad he wasn’t alone. I don’t know, it’s a hard decision to make. But you need to make that decision for you and what you want, Harry. Not what your family wants.”

He nods into my neck, humming an ‘mmmmhmm.’ “Do you need to decide now?” I ask, words still coated in tears. 

“No, I don’ think so. But he had surgery a few hours ago an’ tha doctors are sayin’ it doesn’ look like he’ll wake up,” Harry confesses, words dissolving into more tears. 

I hold him tighter against me and cry with him. My tears come from the fear of losing my dad. Remembering being in the same seat as Harry when my granddad passed. And I cry for Harry and the nightmare he’s going through. 

“I’m so sorry, Harry,” is all I can say. 

I listen to his heavy sobs that make his body shake. Pressing my lips together hard, I shed tears into his hoodie. I feel like I can hardly catch my breath. It only becomes worse when I hear the next words that leave his lips. 

“Is yer dad okay, Becks?” he asks, trying to breathe in. But I can tell it’s hard by the shakiness of his words. 

“I don’t know,” I sob, my words almost incoherent. He nods into my neck, rubbing a hand up and down my back. “He had surgery to remove the tumor. B-But it took longer than they said it would. And then the surgeon said they don’t know if they got it all. Which means he for sure has to have more chemo. And I’m just so scared. I don’t want my dad to have cancer anymore.” 

“‘m really sorry, Becks,” Harry coughs in between tears, his hand rubbing in circles. Uneven breaths leave his lips as choked sobs leave mine. The tears follow one after the other. Ugly sounds follow. 

I can’t find the strength to speak again, and so I nod. My arms shake clutching at his sweatshirt. My white-knuckled hands relax and I fall into him. All of my inhibitions and self-made promises are out the window. I told myself I wouldn’t let him in again, and here I am. And I’m glad I broke that promise. Long, broken sobs are muffled into his shoulder. His hands move in circles on my back as my mind finally entertains all of the possibilities. 

My dad’s cancer not being cured. 

My dad needing even more chemotherapy. 

Maybe even radiation. 

None of that working. 

Everything being the same between Harry and I after this. 

And how much that hurts me. All of it. 

Talking to my dad about his last wishes. 

Watching him take his last breath. 

I let Harry hold me as I let myself feel every single raw feeling. Sobs rack my body and make it shake as a steady stream of tears paints my cheeks. I hear his too, and they only make me cry harder. 

Wiping my nose with a kleenex, I watch him surf through the channels. Finally, he settles on an old episode of Scooby Doo, Where Are You? The daunting figure of the Wax Phantom materializes in the museum. I lift my head and readjust where it rests on Harry’s shoulder. Before my eyes, the monster trudges around the wax museum. My eyelids grow heavy, but I blink hard trying to wake up. This happens again and again, with my eyelids slowly growing heavier. 

But it’s no use. After too many times, I can’t resist succumbing to sleep with my head on Harry’s shoulder and his arm rubbing mine. 

+

I wake up on the surface of the scratchy sofa. The telly is playing an advert softly in the background. Rubbing my eyes crusted with sleep, I groan. With a tired sigh, I try to fall back asleep. I almost begin to, but a thought steals the sleep away. Pulling myself up to sit, I look around with fuzzy eyes. 

I’m all alone. 

Two blue hospital blankets have fallen to lay at my feet. 

And two white pillows sit ignored in front of me. 

Checking my phone, I see the time is 3:24 am. And that I have missed calls and texts from several people. 

Robbie. 

My aunt. 

My grandma. 

My mother. 

And 2 texts from Harry. 

Ignoring all of the others, I quickly open Harry’s from 16 minutes ago. 

i’m sorry. had 2 go. didn’t wanna wake u. thank u for being there 2night, so much 

And there’s another one that came a few minutes later. 

im so proud of u becks. u know why 

My heart skips when I read his words, and the heart emoji that finishes them like a period. I’m guessing he means the stuff going on with my dad, but more so for going back to law school. It makes my heart swell with happiness. But it beats fast at the sight of them as well, suddenly worrying what happened that he had to leave. And in that same moment, I feel heavy with worry about him. My thumbs dart across the screen, composing a hurried and sleepy reply. 

It’s okay I understand. I hope everything is okay. Remember to do what’s best for you. Please let me know if I can help. You’re so welcome Harry and I can’t thank you enough too. And thank you so much. I really want to make you proud. Thinking of you 

I don’t bother to read over my words finished with a heart emoji tool. I send the text, and try to go back to sleep. Because I can’t think about everything that happened tonight. 

My dad. 

Seeing Harry, and sharing what we did. 

And him . . leaving. 

The sickening worry it fills me to wonder the reason why. 

Because now it’s like it never happened. 

Luckily, the second my head hits the pillow, I’m asleep again.

+

I can’t stop looking. I hardly believe what I see, but I know I have to. A stranger stares back at me. Sullen eyes. Shaven cheeks for the first time in weeks. Styled hair. Dry eyes that stare back at me blankly. And a mouth that feels like it hasn’t smiled in months. But I know it hasn’t been that long. But this nightmare feels like it. 

“Shit,” I mutter, bending down to pick up the violet tie that fell to the floor. Black wildflowers scatter the fabric. It seemed perfect for the occasion when I picked it out yesterday. But now I’m not sure anymore. 

I wrap it around my neck again, for the second or third time. Going through the motions to tie it, I get a little farther than last time. Then my fingers stop, like they keep doing. Huffing, I step back and lean against the wall. I feel the chapped surface of my bottom lip come between my teeth. Oh yeah, I gotta remember to bring chapstick too, I add to my seemingly never ending list. 

My thoughts are interrupted by the clanging sound of my postbox outside. Within a few seconds, I’ve opened my door and see my postman walking onto the next house. A stack of letters is what I find waiting for me. 

“Great, mo’ sympathy cards an’ bills,” I groan, dropping the mail on the table beside the door. With plans to finally get this damn tie tied, I look back to the mirror above the table. But something catches my eye. 

The letters have splayed themselves out sloppily on the brown table. Most of them are white, but one of them isn’t. One is a soft blue. Once again, the words inside of my head are stolen away by a sound. Fishing out my phone from the pocket of my slacks, I answer it. 

“Ya, I know. ‘m gonna leave soon, ‘s not like ‘m late or anythin’,” I respond, sifting through the letters. Bill after bill meets my eyes. “I was there all bloody night last night fer tha wake, so why do I need t’ be early t’day?” Tossing the bills to the side, I keep sifting through them. 

“I know, alright? But I . . I jus’ can’t alright? I can’t do all tha huggin’ e’rybody right now, ‘m sick of it. There’s plenty mo’ family ‘round who can do it,” I tell them through gritted teeth. The powder blue card is next in my hands. My voice catches when my brain conjures the owner of that bubbly handwriting. “I’ll be there at 2:30 an’ no earlier,” I rush, hanging up on them. Stuffing my phone away again, I instead pick up the envelope. 

Within seconds, I pull the card out from the sea of blue. Wildflowers decorate the front along with words card companies think are comforting. All of the other ones have hardly been that, but these ones are closer than before. Just seeing her handwriting peeking at me from the inside is more comforting than all of the others combined. I feel the tears pressing at the back of my eyes, ready to fall at command. 

With a deep breath, I’m greeted by her bubbly letters in purple ink. I can’t say I’m surprised, it’s her favorite color. 

Harry,  It took me twenty minutes to pick out a card, because none of them seemed good enough. None of them said the right words that I wanted to say, so I finally just picked this one. Even if I looked for 3 hours, I don’t know if I would’ve found the “right” one... I hope it’s okay. I saw your granddad’s obituary in the paper today. I don’t even think the words ‘I’m sorry’ are close to what I feel for you and want to say, Harry. They weren’t the right words when my granddad passed. They were what everybody said, and after a while, I hated hearing them. They became redundant and meaningless. But I am sorry, Harry. I’m sorry that you lost your grandfather, and the unimaginable pain you’re going through missing him and trying to live a life that he’s no longer a part of. I’m so sorry that you’re hurting. Some days it seems it gets easier. But other days are hard, I’ve learned. They’re the anniversaries, birthdays, days they enjoyed, family get togethers, or really any day that ugly grief decides to return. We all handle grief differently and so it’s hard to give advice. But take care of yourself. Please, Harry. If that means staying at home watching Netflix, or distracting yourself with work, that’s okay. It’s your pain, it belongs to you. It’s okay to handle the pain however you decide to, but please take care. You don’t have to visit his grave. You don’t have to talk about him again if you don’t want to. You don’t even have to cry if that’s not you. Or you can cry all of the time, or you can talk about him all of the time, too. But you do have to feel the pain, as terrible as it is. I never really found anything that helped, but I like to remember my granddad sometimes by doing things he loved. I go fishing on opening day with Robbie, I stuck one of those suctioned bird feeder on one of our windows, I make or buy a vanilla cupcake on his birthday and sing happy birthday to him, sometimes I visit his grave and bring things he likes but I know I don’t have to go there to talk to him. I know that I don’t have to do those things to make it feel like he’s with me, because he always is. I’m sorry that this card is all about me, but I hope that my words help. Even just a little bit. Please know that I’m thinking of you, and your family. I know what you’re going through, and how hard it is. I’m not going to say ‘things will be okay,’ because I know that’s the opposite of how things feel right now and for the near future. I know how much it hurts. I know that by the time you get this card, the funeral is any day now. That was one of the hardest parts for me, and it made it all the more surreal. I’m sending you so much strength and love, Harry. If there's anything I can do to help, please know I’m here for you.  Love,  Becks xoxoxo

The first laugh I’ve spent in days greets the air. But it’s ironic and surprising, I’m not sure. Only a few seconds later, tears accompany it. Soon, my phone is back in my hand where I banished it from minutes ago. And my ass is sitting on the bottom of my staircase. And I’m dialing the number I’ve been itching to for the last week. 

They answer on the third thing. 

My aching heart is soothed with the sound of their voice. Like the drought welcoming the rain. 

“Hi,” I say slowly, my words sodden with tears. 

“Hi, Harry,” she replies, sounding surprised. But her voice brings me comfort, the most I’ve felt in the last 8 days. It’s loud where she is, but in a couple of seconds, it isn’t anymore. 

“I got yer card, I uh jus’ read it. It was so sweet, Becks. I don’ think ‘thank you’ could begin t’ cover it,” I tell her slowly, uncertain what to say. I watch my feet grow blurry in front of me, and then refocus when another warm tear hits my cheek. 

“I’m glad you got it. You don’t have to thank me. W-what are you doing?” she asks, taking time with her words. 

“Tryin’ t’ get meself t’ put onna bloody tie. Ya know, me granddad tried t’ teach me once. But he gave up an’ admitted me gran’ always did it fer him,” I confess, the words falling out fast. 

An amused hum comes from her. “That’s funny. My granddad always bragged about being able to tie ties blindfolded, or something. He tried to teach Robbie, but it never stuck. It just ended in tears and yelling,” she comments. 

A smile warms on my lips, and I nod. To who, I don’t know, since she certainly can’t see me doing it. Regrettably.

“It’s today, isn’t it?” she guesses softly, earning a confirming ‘mmmhm’ from me. 

“I’m wearin’ all black. Seems like too much of tha color, but I couldn’ bear t’ look at anythin’ else in me wardrobe.”

“As long as you’re comfortable, Harry, and black isn’t such a bad color. It fits the emotion, I guess you could say,” Becky says. I sniffle and wish her voice didn’t stop playing in my ear. 

“Yer right . . . ,” I agree aloud, not knowing what to say next. I hate this part. “I didn’ stay that night I saw you. I . . . thought I could do it, but I couldn’. I drove ‘round an’ cried, feelin’ all sorts o’ terrible. Terrible fer not bein’ there with him. Terrible as I waited fer tha text that he was gone. Even more so when I got tha text . . . An’ terrible ‘cause it didn’ really feel much different aftawards.”

“That’s okay. Grief doesn’t really follow any rules, Harry. And it certainly doesn’t make any sense. It never feels right. I’m so sory,” Becky tells me, somehow making sense of something I can’t even begin to make sense of. 

“Ya ‘ave all tha right words t’ say,” I smile with a laugh that’s out of place, yet sad. My lips quiver as the tears run over them. 

“I doubt it, but I hope that means they’re helping in some capacity.”

“Ya always help, Becks,” I divulge quietly, unsure if she heard me or not. 

“Can you tell me what he was like?” Becky inquires. 

“Ya. He was um, wicked tall. Told tha best stories, but like ya neva knew how much truth there was t’ ‘em. He made tha best grilled cheese, an’ somehow always with bread he made himself. He had this laugh that I loved. It surrounded a room when ya heard it. He always smelled o’ peppermint gum. He was always whistlin’, or singin’ Sinatra songs t’ himself. He made tha best popcorn on tha stovetop, an’ e’ry time I was ova. He taught me so much an’ turned me onto so many things that I love. He’s so much of who I am, an’ I dunno how t’ let him go now.” The memories turn into words, coming easier the further I go. A warmth accompanies them as they pass through. But they’re hard to get out, as the bittersweetness drowns them in my mouth. 

“You don’t have to let him go, Harry,” she disagrees.

“B-but he’s dead,” I cry, feeling my body relinquish control to the sobs.

“But that doesn’t mean that you have to forget him like that. He’s still your granddad. You can still enjoy those memories of him. You can be happy he’s not in pain anymore without feeling guilty. You can still hold him in your heart. You can be mad at the world. You can be broken. There’s no right or wrong answer, Harry. It doesn’t feel that way, I know, but however you feel in the moment is okay. It’s okay to feel that way.” her words feel like a warm blanket coming over me after a bad day. They wrap me up in their syllables and hold me together, while I can’t. 

I can hardly get out the words ‘thank you’ without my intermittent sobs covering them up. 

“Of course,” is all she says. In her voice sweet as clover honey. 

Radio silence follows her requital with my occasional whimpers punctuating my tears. This continues for a few minutes, but it’s not awkward. I feel comfort just from knowing that she’s there. But a thought edges its way in, ruining that contentment. 

The ticking of the clock peaks my interest suddenly. More time has passed than I thought it had. “I uh should prolly get goin’ soon if I wanna make it on time, so me family doesn’t have a row,” I suddenly say. 

“Yeah yeah, of course. Um, drive safe and, I hope everything goes well. You can text me if you want. I’m just, at work,” Becky replies fast, her words stalling at parts. I hear the nerves wired in her buttery voice. 

“Thanks, love. I’ll rememba. But uh get back t’ work, kay?” I quip, feeling memories between us seep into my words. 

“Yes, sir,” she replies, following along. I welcome it with the smallest of laughs. 

“Good,” I exhale, unsure of how to end the call. And unsure if I even want to. Because this was nice, albeit the circumstances marked by hundreds of tears. It was nice to hear her voice, although I know I’ll miss it in a minute. That thought begins a new ache inside of my chest. “I’ll let ya go then. Have a good weekend, an’ take care, Becks.”

“You too, Harry. Thanks for calling,” she says, and I hear it in her voice. The shared uncertainty and nervousness. The awkwardness often there at the end of a phone call. 

“And thanks fer pickin’ up, Becks.”

“Bye, Harry,” she almost whispers. 

It takes every ounce of strength I have residing in me to echo her words, “G’bye, Becks.”

With every second that passes absent of her voice, the thought grows louder. It’s no longer ignorable. But I don’t let it take hold of me as I’m watching myself in the mirror. Wrapping the tie around my neck, and going through the motions. Tightening it around my neck as the tears begin to dry on my face. Then as I compose a text with forgotten words. 

i hope ur dad is doing better. thx for being there becks xxx

The timer on my phone begins to buzz as I shut off the entryway light. Sitting on the steps once more with my shoes in hand, I acknowledge it. The thought that’s been tinkering away in my brain. Gaining speed. 

It wasn’t enough talking to her on the phone. I wanted her here with me, again. I wanted to hide in her arms. Her scent of oranges and cloves blanketing me. Her words falling over me like snow, but without a phone separating us. I want her here with me. 

I feel my heart lurch deep down as I grab hold of the door handle. The unspoken words settle with me as I attempt to find the strength to leave. Somewhere I find it, buried in the words she spoke into me mere moments ago. 

Because that’s all I have, even if I don’t really have her. 

[humanemotionssuck]

Hello 2021

January 2, 2021

I should’ve put these thoughts into words on the first day of the year but then again, I felt so lazy given this bed weather we are currently having. By far, I think I experienced the coldest temperature here in my hometown (21 degrees baby) and I’m sure not liking it as I prefer warm days.

I actually do not know how to start. I feel it’s necessary to check on how I am doing lately. Write the things I experienced last year and reflect on the lessons it taught me.

I could probably kick things off by remembering how 2020 started for me. I have a bad memory but I’ll try my best to recall them.

January

Broke up with J (yes this is probably one of the major and heartbreaking events happened to me). To sum it up, I realized that the relationship does not have growth anymore, and I am slowly drifting to follow my own path, which is to focus on the plans I want. I haven’t thought deeply the lessons I learned in my past relationship yet but one thing is for sure, I changed and I want to explore more of what I can do or what I’m missing out in life. Which brings me to attend seminars on how to work/study abroad. I attended a couple (e.g Fortrust Makati) and I also realized how costly it will be and I’m probably not yet ready esp. on the financial aspect.

February – March

Highlight on these months was I got back to dating apps again. I know it was a complete dick move. I haven’t moved on yet and here I am in the pool again. I met 2 guys from this app, Coffee Meets Bagel (which btw I uninstalled few months after). The first guy was the introvert but funny type and also VERY sexual. I got along with it, tried to do the deed but failed cause the guy hasn’t moved on from the ex yet. (Sucks right). And so I met this second guy and he is decent but we really had completely different personality. I believe this guy is also rich (he came from a Chinese family and I went to his house and saw the maid and his stuff). Can you also believe he already introduced me to his mom (no dad cause broken family), uncle and grandma. Pressured si ate gurl syempre cause it was really too early to do that step since we’re just dating but March was the most difficult month because…

START OF LOCKDOWN. PH was in state of panic after the government announced a nationwide lockdown due to increased COVID-19 transmission. I immediately went on a bus to the province fearing to get stuck in Manila.

April

Nah this was just a typical month. Summer vibes all over but since we cannot go to the beach we just setup an inflatable pool in the house to get soaked. I finally posted a pic wearing a swimsuit again. My stagnant IG feed came to life lmao

May

Oh boy. This month sucks so much. I got typhoid fever. Which I thought was COVID already cause my fever just won’t stop. My mom didn’t want me to get admitted in the hospital in the fear of being infected so I was hooked in the IV here in the house. I felt I was dying. I was in huge pain both physically and mentally. Which forced me to end any communication means with the second guy. He was not there when I was sick. I didn’t feel his concern even if we’re miles apart and I felt I was begging for his attention. It just won’t work. He blocked me in his socials (which is a first for me, usually I am the one who blocks lol) but given the current state I have now, I learned to accept it and chose to move forward.

June

Explored options on work/study program abroad. We got a new car (Xpander) which my father was able to purchase after borrowing money from us. That money could’ve been used for my Japan trip on December (plot twist it was cancelled due to fucking corona) but it’s okay I guess I’ll save another again.

I also got my student permit (yes I learned how to drive months after hehe)

July

THIS WAS MY BIGGEST DOWNFALL FOR THIS YEAR. There were some modifications in the quarantine and so my employer required and FORCED us to report on site in Makati despite of high number of positive cases. All I can say is SCREW THEM and I hope karma will do its thing on their business. The management.. the bosses.. they are all inconsiderate fucks for not allowing me to work at home instead. The situation forced me to resign but they chose to terminate me instead. The unemployment took its toll on my mental health, it caused me great depression and anxiety which forced me to look for distractions.. anything that will ease my mind.

Oh and btw, I bought my first laptop from hard earned money. Oh boy, it was satisfying to give myself the things my parents couldn’t afford that time I was still in school. It’s a gaming laptop and the one I’m using to type now. I absolutely love it and I used it to find online jobs later on..

I read Looking for Alaska by John Green again after watching the TV series on Hulu. Geez, this has to be my favorite book so far. The seeking of great perhaps.. which was very timely on my mood while having nothing else to do.

Lastly, TAYLOR SWIFT RELEASED A NEW ALBUM CALLED FOLKLORE. In the middle pandemic? Awesome right and this album kept me sane during this crazy and miserable month. Oh and on December, she released folklore’s sister album.. Evermore. Miss Swift saved me again with her music. This will definitely be one of the albums I will play when I’m old and gray knitting sweaters and wearing cardigan.

August

I started and finished my driving lesson in manual. JFC, I realized driving gives me a huge anxiety. One thing is for sure, I will prefer to drive automatic. Not driving that shit again.

I was still hooked with Looking for Alaska. Also purchased Subtle Art of not Giving a F*ck on the time I bought LFA.

On the other hand, I was also actively looking for new jobs this time.

September

ON SEPT. 30 I GOT HIRED! I was super happy to start on a new job. It gave me hope once again to continue on this journey called life. After almost 3 months, we are def back to business!

I also got the chance to get this Thyroid issue checked. Unfortunately, there was no major stuff going on with my thyroid. Basically, I’m perfectly healthy. What sucks is that the doctor invalidated my previous condition and said I only have ~anxiety which is the cause of my symptoms (excessive sweating and palpitations). I will seek professional help on this anxiety stuff anytime in the future.

Lastly, I played Grand Chase again and met someone in the game. Well technically we haven’t met yet but since then, I got used to talking with this guy and he is part of my daily routine now. I won’t spoil much details but as soon as this is all over, I can’t wait to meet this person :)

*cue Grand Chase soundtrack*

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VoK0bAjsHoo

October

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MEEE! It was a typical birthday. I don’t have much realizations. If I had one, I need to think thoroughly again lol.

Busy with training on the new job and this has been the most challenging training I ever had since I started working.

NOVEMBER

WORK WORK WORK. Super stressed and my anxiety was on the roof. I thought of giving up already but then again it was too early to quit. I haven’t seen my full potential on this job yet and so I chose to keep on fighting.

I also finally got braces. Let’s get these smiles fixed.

December

WORK WORK WORK AGAIN. My work caused me a huge anxiety cause I was given high priority cases -.-But overall, I can say the holidays went great. I finally got to spend time with the family outside. Don’t worry cause we still practiced precautions and I guess it wouldn’t hurt to go out once in a while to have some fresh air. We went to the beach and pretty much that’s the highlight of this month.

Things are getting serious with this guy I’m talking about.. Seriously, he makes me happy every single day.

I also won in Christmas raffle. Oppo phone. (I have the odds in my favor when it comes to raffles lol)

Feels weird to celebrate this holiday too thinking a lot of hardships were experienced in the last few months of quarantine. I was thinking about all the lives lost by covid and hoping they are in the peaceful place now..

JANUARY (NOW)

After everything that happened, oddly the start of the year gives me a sense of hope. Sure I am still carrying the trauma 2020 gave me but I am slowly leaving all of them behind. I want a fresh start and I want to let go of the things that gave me pain. I don’t have solid resolutions just like in my teenage years. Guess I’m too old for that. Not saying it’s okay to not have plans for the future and just go with the flow but I promise to not be too hard on myself and to not pressure myself on the goals I haven’t achieved yet. It’s really a struggle to plan things ahead given the situation but as always, I will do my best. I will stop comparing my progress to somebody else’s cause everyone has their own timeline.

I will listen to my heart and my mind to determine the things I really want. I promise to reevaluate the decisions I am making each day. I will not be afraid of making mistakes because that’s how I learn.

I am embracing my anxiety of uncertainty. It’s okay to feel afraid because I am always trying on how to overcome my fear. I strive each day because I am more than just a ball of anxiety. The palpitations.. the sweating.. they don’t define me. I have the power to control them and they won’t stop me from being the better version of myself.

[nightwideeyes]

2020 review

do we really wanna do this? I’m not sure but god knows I need it.

shout out to 2016 me for starting this. I’ll compare it afterwards and see how many steps I’ve taken back

okay okay all jokes aside

all the bad shit that happened, all my thoughts, all my feelings

this is 2020 in retrospect, so buckle up and join me on the ride

see, I was pretty hopeful for this year because I spent half of 2019 in a toxic relationship which I deeply and passionately regret with all my heart because it took a toll on my mental health. The rest of 2019 I spent recovering from self hate and anxiety

so I went into 2020 with a fresh start fever thinking this is the year that will change things

but the anxiety didn’t really leave. throughout january i was rather okay, euphoric about the new year. at the end of february my anxiety got worse and i was overthinking a lot, started being tense a lot etc etc

then march the absolute avalanche introduced herself. miss rona. i don’t want to whine about how shit the pandemic is, how terrible it hit us all because it certainly hit people a lot harder than me but still, it’s not nice, its annoying and frustrating and can mess with someones head enough

so during march and april my anxiety was on peak levels. i was constantly mad, upset or nervous and had to spent my time in homeschool, having no distraction whatsoever

i spent a lot of time outside in the forest and discovered new magical places where I could find some peace and thats where I’ve been hiding away during may, becoming part of nature, finding back to my old self somehow

on my birthday the 11th I was feeling well, I was content and happy and thought shit would be alright again

but the day after I came home from school and received the message that my fathers cancer was back after 10 years. although I’ve pretended like it wasn’t all hopeless and things would be alright again I think it hit me the hardest this year. it’s been the starting point of me confronting myself once again with the thought of him dying, of leaving us behind, of me having all the responsibility of what he would leave us. of going through the struggle again, of going to hospitals again, of seeing him vanish again. it was devastating.

in may I attended an assessment center for a job I wanted to do with all my heart and felt so confident and strong that I could do it

but in june I received a letter of rejection and had to write myself in for another year of school because i didn’t really have an alternative

meanwhile my dads treatment got rescheduled again and again until june and he had his operation on the day I wrote my second final

so unknowingly and unnoticeably i was put under so much pressure of one unfortunate event following the next and it felt like I was just supposed to function when I didn’t want to function anymore

but these times ended and I wrote my fucking finals, passed them, celebrated a bit and my father recovered too, like we all had hoped anyway but didn’t know for sure

so summer had been the best time. although there were still restrictions on public life me and my friends had so much fun together and did amazing things and I think we just grew closer from the creativity of coming with ways to spent time with each other without having to go out much

i was doing a lot of yoga, a lot of mental self care during summer, watching atla, spending time trying to get in touch with my body and soul and I discovered some good music that helped me find myself and develop myself

at this point I would like to thank

5 seconds of summer; for making me realize that deep in my heart I will forever be teenage me stuck in my emo phase and that’s how I feel most comfortable

Upsahl; for reminding me that I’m a bad bitch who doesn’t need anyone or anything to be happy with herself

Yungblud, for reminding me its okay not to be okay and that broken people stand up for themselves and are strong together

and Blackpink, mostly for giving me more reasons to simp for cute girls

in august i was working for two weeks at a factory to earn some money and although I’ve been there before this time it’s just been hard. I felt really stupid and not taken seriously by the staff and I think that’s when I was getting anxious again, feeling very stupid and very unable to do anything right

from the anxiety starting in august it went into september with me. I started a new school year, gave this weird boy a ride to school two times before I scared him off for some reason (maybe because I was giving him badass lesbian vibes as I was playing Use Me by PVRIS in my car constantly) and was quarantined on the second day of school bc of our english teacher

in september my dad was submitted into the hospital a second time and we thought he had gotten worse again but this time it was a result of too much mental pressure. i was stressing into that again, thinking of ways I could help him with his responsibilities and worries.

the rest of september I spent in this weird state of perpetual tension and kind of continued it into october

on the fourth of october I went to Lehesten all by myself and I felt so proud and accomplished and I realized that I don’t need anyone to feel better but myself. so I went on some more field trips in october, enjoying some me time and some peace of mind, getting back into the bands I was listening to as a teen, recalling the times I felt free with myself

in november I was living off post human survival horror and felt so careless yet free of all of my worries, feeling numb but content

so until december there have been pecks of anxiety here and there but I’ve spent the fall months rather well, mentally

now december started well but the anxiety has increased again and now it’s been on moderate levels

but nonetheless I’m getting through day by day and I hope I will reach the state of carelessness again in order to collect my thoughts

so although 2020 has been a year of disappointment, hurt, fear and way too many thoughts and worries I would like to move onto the point of this list which might help me move on further

2020 positivity

a collection of things I've learned, I am grateful for and what I've experienced and done all year which I am proud of

- I've been more open and confident about my sexuality than ever before

- I've been spending so much time outside getting inspired

- I've been creative

- I've been writing the most honest and uplifting poetry ever since I started

- I've self printed and binded a poetry collection of my past and the sorrows that came with it to help overcome it

- I've started drawing again, started yoga and meditation and enhanced my spirituality, I've picked up the guitar again

- I've graduated 12th grade with an average of 1.6

- I've started 13th grade with crippling fear of failing and got used to it after a month and appreciated the challenge

- I've dealt with a big disappointment and learned that when one door closes a new one opens somewhere else

- I've learned what it means to support each other as a family but also when it's time to step back and distance yourself to protect yourself when you can't help anymore

- I've been getting in touch with the most free and careless version of myself

- I've rediscovered my love for old music I used to listen to

- I've learned that I don't need anyone to do what makes me happy

- I've learned to appreciate my friends more than ever for being my light and support

so although this year was full of disappointment and hurt and fear and worries it helped me grow

throughout this year I have been the bravest, strongest, most honest and authentic version of myself

I do not have any hopes for 2021. I just want to continue growing the roots I have dug for myself now. I want to continue blooming into the person I've strived to become all these years

I want to grow and continue blooming. I want to continue becoming the version of myself that makes me feel content about myself. But I also want to know I am valuable and whole at any time.

I want to overcome this anxiety and I want to be free of fear again.

so this is me manifesting it.

I will grow and I will continue blooming. I will continue becoming the version of myself that makes me feel content about myself. I am valuable and whole at any time. And I will overcome this anxiety and I will be free of fear again. I will not be afraid anymore. I will be clear again.

Ich werde keine Angst mehr haben, ich werde wieder klar sein.

[riskeith]

omg hi. sorry i disappeared for a few days, been super busy with school. i missed you a lot. how have you been?

i haven’t had the need to eat any food since i got barbara and noelle on my team. if one of them can’t shield, the other comes in a clutch haha. *bows* thank you ladies for your service.

i’d pay hard earned money to see fanart with the boy scouts playing with guoba.. :( and YEAH. that would be so fitting? + it’s gonna be liyue themed which is super nice. do you know any predictions over which four stars will be in xiao’s banner? and who do /you/hope will be there?

last time i played three days ago unlocked dragonspine.. i even did albedo’s quest i can’t believe i defeat that evil place sjshdksk. meaning i got so some primogems and some intertwined fate. i’ve been itching to use some of the intertwined fates to get xiangling c rate up... should i?

october 20 is such a cute bday. you know how some dates just look nice? that’s one of them shskdhs. i want to say my birthday too but i feel like if anyone reads our messages they’ll know who i am... sorry. you’ll have to wait for that information until we privately talk some day. big promise. 🤍

ooh. you kind of wing it too, then! in some ways. if you’re not feeling it do you leave the fic for the day after or give up on it for a while? (so many question... shut up @ me) i’m the same as you! but i also write sometimes in the day time and i feel like that’s when i produce my best work. yesterday i was at a cafe studying and during a break i just started writing a fic and for some reason it just flowed so nicely? so yeah idk skdjdhsk. whenever it strikes i suppose.

i do borrow my books sadly. i kind of have to because i don’t have anymore place to put my books (we live in a small apartment) and books are kind of expensive :( i don’t mind borrowing though because i don’t really reread books unless they’re super special so it’s fine. do you buy yours? I HAVE READ LEGEND. i read it waaaay back in grade school haha, it’s been ages ago. i’ve never seen anyone say it’s their favorite but i can see why you feel that way. it’s kind of underrated in the community for sure.

dude fuck... chongyun and xingqiu live in my mind rent free. i kid you not i just can’t stop thinking about those boys... please send me all the fanart you find i’ll literally give you my life for that <3

i just listened to the g-idle song and AAA? wtf? i used to really like them while i was into kpop and this is so nostalgic to me. i haven’t listened to kpop in literally years shdkdhdk. this song is great thank you for sending it, do you like g-idle? <3

WAIT ARE YOU MAKING A SECOND ACC? I WAS LITERALLY CONSIDERING DOING ONE IN ASIA FOR YOU... shdjdhdjshsjsj our minds. and yes i’m in american server... oh god. our co-op date can happen? 🥺 but if it’s too much work for you i’ve seriously actually considered doing one in asia for me i’m totally fine with starting all over so.. 🥺

god i’ve missed talking to you so much. once again i’m sorry for not being here, but hopefully after tomorrow’s exam school will be a bit more chill and i’ll be yours again.

hope you’ve been well babe. mwah!

hi!! that’s alright ahah, i assumed that was the case. i’ve been well!! and then not so well bc we weren’t talking 🤪 needless to say i’ve missed you a lot too <333

omggg QUEENS!!! i don’t have any healers but i don’t eat food either... LMFAO unless it’s a boss fight i’ll just keep going until i’m done with whatever it is then go heal at a statue fsdhfkdjs

!!! brb just gonna go get good at art so i can draw that for u 😩 i don’t have any predictions myself, but i’ve seen people say it’ll be ningguang + beidou + barbara possibly?? but of course, i would hope that xingqiu was there <3333 he can appear twice in a row come on mhy <3333 just think about that <333 and omggg i’d wish if chongyun came as well.. i really want to get him to c6 (but he was only two banners ago?) hbu do you have any thoughts on the matter~

AHAHAH good job im proud of you 😤😤 show that nasty place who’s boss!! if you want to, I don’t see why not! it’ll get you closer to pity as well so by the time venti is near, hopefully it won’t take you much to get him! lmk how it goes!!!! manifesting c6 xiangling for you 🔥

fhskdf thank you... is it weird to say i agree? FHDSKFHSDKFKJ like. 20/10 or 10/20... nice even multiples of ten numbers.. AHAHAH. no need to apologise at all!! 🤍🤍🤍🤍 share whatever you’re comfortable with whenever you’re comfortable <33

hm it depends. (i just reaslised i said this exact phrasing last time too lmfao) i think i usually give up on it for a while? but sometimes i try to force myself through it too, just to get over that section so i can hopefully move on to a better one wait sorry i misread your question LOL. i usually leave it for the day as opposed to give up on it for a while! if i’m actively working on something i’d prefer to continue working at it slowly, even if the progress is just me opening the doc and then exiting after 5 mins fhdskj. are you the same? (NO!!! DO NOT SHUT UP @ YOU i never get to talk about writing processes pls im enjoying this a lot)

nice!! the vibes when writing during the day are sometimes better as well, bc it’s still light and stuff you’re not sitting in the dark or with a light on.. lol. it’s more ~natural~ & omg legendary... i love that for you!! on that note, do you usually study at school/cafes/libraries? i pretty much can only study at home, i hate doing it anywhere else. 

ahh that’s fair :( and yeah i agree books can get so expensive? like the authors def deserve to be compensated for all their hard work but damn lmao. oh that’s a good point! i do buy books yeah, and i don’t even necessarily reread them i just like having them on the shelf fhdskfd (there are many i haven’t even read for the first time... oops.) what ages do grade school cover? sorry i have no idea what that means fhsjfkshsdkjs the different names for education levels will never not confuse me. !! yeah i really wish legend was more popular aaaaa

here are some recent arts i’ve bookmarked!! (rip i should find one more so every word is linked but cbs hfskdhfs) i’m also considering making a genshin twitter! idk why i’m so averse to following these amazing accs on my normal account lmaoo but i’m also thinking of posting pics from the 52485 photoshoots i do with chongyun..

oh nice!!! i’m really happy you liked it 🥰🥰🥰 and yeah i do like g-idle but i don’t stan them! that’s me with most groups tbh fshkfjsd but i do watch most of their MVs when they first come out~

FSHFKJSDHFKSD wait what if.. this but it’s us surprising each other in the other’s servers <33 and if i’m telling you the truth... i kinda despise the idea of playing in am*rica server FHSDKJFHSDKFHSDKKDSHFKSDHKKJ but we could compromise and both start again in europe?? ahah let me know what you think! if you’re happy to just do one in asia tho that’s fine as well~ 

me too!! and no worries for real, school comes first!! (even if it fkn sucks... @ school i hate you. i say, when i’m still on holidays FHDSKJFJS) aaaa good luck on your exam!!! i hope you smash it 💪💪 

also um “and i’ll be yours again”??!?!?!?!? be still my beating heart 😩😩😩😩 i shall be waiting for you wifey hehe

hope you’ve been taking care of yourself!! kisses, c.r.

[maisstories]

I Need Your Help

To be more precise, my girlfriend needs your help. The reason I am the one writing this text is because right now she is so depressed and discouraged that she doesn’t have the strength to believe asking for help would make a difference, and that… that terrifies me.

For those who don’t know us, I am Mai, and my girlfriend is Kari. Under different circumstances, we should have our lives all nicely sorted out, but as we are all aware, we live in the kind of dystopian world society at large likes to pretend only happens in fiction. Especially Kari. You see, I’m from Spain, and Kari is from the US. This means an entire ocean separates us (otherwise I would’ve bundled her up and brought her home, believe me).

Kari is a poor wlw who lives in a very conservative area (as in, Bible Belt conservative). She has ADHD, which went untreated most of her life, hampering her at every turn. First, because she grew up in a very conservative Catholic family and most Catholic families just Don’t Believe in Those Things. Now… well, now because she has no medical insurance and can’t afford to pay for medication. Cute, isn’t it? And that’s not even the best part. Kari has depression, that I mentioned, but this whole situation, and the hopelessness it causes her, has brought forth suicidal ideation. I don’t have the words to express just how scared I am by this. It paralyzes me. There is nothing, physically nothing I can do if they ever get the better of her.

To add to this, it has been made abundantly clear to Kari that her parents won’t help her if she becomes homeless. They didn’t want a child to begin with. A gay child? Yeah, no, forget about it.

(On a bit of a bright note, Kari has two adopted cats, which are the cutest fur balls over. They’re her closest emotional support most days, and I am very grateful for them. I can’t cuddle her or be physically there for her at all, but I can at least ask her to go cuddle them. They’re not even on the particularly scratchy side for cats).

Currently, Kari has a job, but despite taking on as many extra hours as possible, she cannot make enough money for rent. In fact, she cannot make many other basic necessities, which I will list here because they’re important, I am worried sick, and we really do need help:

-Work: Kari lost her previous job for one of those completely absurd, US-only reasons back in late October. I say absurd because any company trying to pull that shit here in Spain, and most likely anywhere in the European Union, would’ve been fined out of business. But hey, Country of Freedom and all that, isn’t it? She finally found a new job mid-November. Lower pay, though, which means it doesn’t help her cover full rent.

-Rent: As many people in the US will know, and others not from the US will have heard, rent outside of isolated areas is ridiculously expensive, especially for such a large and unpopulated country. The Wonders of Capitalism. As such, Kari is forced to pay a truly monstrous amount of money for a minuscule space to live in, one that ate up most of her previous salary and that surpasses her current one.

-Bills: Let’s not forget these. She rations. As much as she can. Electricity, water, internet… she goes for cheapest and least use, so far as to monitor her use of water during showers, but this still adds to her expenses.

-Food: Now’s where things get to a truly awful degree. When she moved to the place she lives in now (and if anyone wants the story that led to this move, please ask, because that’s an entirely other level of fucked up), she had to apply for food stamps, because she had barely no money left to feed herself and her two adopted cats after all the mandatory expenses. Food stamps people don’t look at the money you have left after bills, they just look at your income, so she was allotted $16. Useful, right? Anyway, fast forward to late October: Kari loses her job, so, obviously, one of the first things she does is contact the food stamps people to update her situation and have her allotment reevaluated. No response. Contact again. No response. This keeps going on. Mid-November, she gets a new job (still no response from the food stamps people despite the many attempts to contact them). Last Friday, her food supplies consisted of a bit of chicken, two fish fillets, and a couple eggs. I do not kid you. Today, the food stamp people finally answered her call: they won’t look into her case until, at least, December.

That’s it for the basics. As you see, it’s a wonderful situation.

Now, my role in this, as I’m sure some of you are wondering.

Let me start by saying this: I am a heavily disabled woman (nearly blind) living in an isolated area with the worst public transport system this side of the Mediterranean Sea. I am incapable of even getting out of home without assistance and someone to drive me at the moment. This means, having a job where I currently live is out of the question (I’m working on getting a job somewhere else where I’ll be able to live on my own. Sort of). My only source of income right now is my Patreon account, the earnings of which go fully to Kari because my girlfriend’s wellbeing matters to me much more than anything I could ever need for myself. I may say whatever I want about my parents’ belief that my relationship isn’t real because they don’t believe you can forge real connections through the internet (or the fact they want me to have a BOYfriend because they want grandchildren), but at least they’re so terrified I’ll break the moment I step outside on my own that they take good care of me.

Still, unfortunately, I’m only a writer, and a writer’s Patreon doesn’t make enough money to cover for such serious issues.

But Kari is the most important person in my life. I’m not exaggerating. I never thought I’d fall in love. I’ve always been the weird one out, the blind kid teachers coddled too much out of pity so other kids disliked and picked on, the one who was so odd that didn’t even fit with the weird kids in school. That happened everywhere, anywhere I went. Even in some fandom groups. It came to the point I stopped trying. It came to the point I thought once my parents died I wouldn’t have anyone. I’d stopped making plans for the future. There was no future for me.

And then I met Kari. She can make me smile with a silly gif and an obscure quote I thought no one else knew at 3am when I’m on the verge of tears because I feel trapped in my own house; she can get me excited about doing a joint cosplay in the distant future when I’d given up on cosplay years ago because I had no one who wanted to go to cons with me; she listens to my stupid history rants and even shows interest in them, when the most I’m used to getting are eye rolls and a change of topic.

Kari is the best that’s happened to me. Ever. And I want her to be happy. I want her to not have to worry about rent; I want her to be able to buy herself a chocolate bar because she feels like it without having to feel guilty for wasting the money. I want her to be able to live without the fear of being evicted every month, without having to worry about tomorrow’s meals because she ran out of food stamps and the fridge has only a can of soup left for the weekend. I want her to be able to go to the doctor when she’s sick and buy the medication she needs to get better.

But I don’t have the power to do this. Not now, not yet. So I’m asking you, everyone out there, to please help us. Help her.

And, I’m afraid, November is an awful month for Kari. Due to the late date at which she found her new job, she is missing a large chunk of rent. I’m doing everything in my power to gather money, and I ask —no, beg— you to help. Donate something, anything. Even if it is small, many small donations can make a difference.

Originally, we wanted to do a GoFundMe page with a three-month goal of 975 dollars to cover that period’s expenses (yes, guys, we’re missing about 500 this month. It’s that horrible), but every single crowdfunding website we have found works through bank accounts. Banks in the US are sharks; they tax you for not having enough income, for not having enough activity… Basically, if you’re poor in the US, you have to pay to have a bank account that will never have any money in it because the bank will eat it up. So, until we find an alternate crowdfunding site that allows to collect through paypal, we have set us several other safe forms through which you guys can donate to help Kari.

Paypal.Me: https://paypal.me/findyourwaycrafts

Ko-Fi: https://ko-fi.com/findyourway

Kari has a crafts store, because she is a fantastic artist (and you should totally check it out), with much stuff already on it and other stuff planned to come:

Store: https://findyourway.storenvy.com/

Store Tumblr: https://findyourwaycrafts.tumblr.com/

However, these things take time to take off, and we are running out of time in November. So please, please, help us cover the remainder of Kari’s rent for this month. Even if it’s just a dollar, three, five, a purchase of a necklace. Anything. Please, help us. Help Kari keep a roof over her head this Winter.